BERKELEY 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


THE  WRITINGS    OF 
HARRIET  BEECHER   STOWE 

WITH  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTIONS 

PORTRAITS,   AND    OTHER 

ILL  USTRA  TIONS 

IN  SIXTEEN  VOLUMES 
VOLUME    XII 


Copyright,  1871, 
BY  J.  B.  FORD  &  CO. 

Copyright,  1896, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 0       .       .     vn 

AUTHOR'S  PREFACE xm 

I.  MY  CHILD-WIFE 

II.  OUR  CHILD-EDEN 

III.  MY  SHADOW-WIFE 30 

IV.  I    START    FOR   COLLEGE 42 

V.  MY  DREAM-WIFE -  52 

VI.  THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION 67 

VII.  THE  BLUE  MISTS       .        .  .       •       «       •        .77 

VIII.  AN  OUTLOOK  INTO  LIFE       .        .        .        ....  85 

,  IX.  COUSIN  CAROLINE      .        .        .       •       •       •       •       •  101 

X.   WHY  DON'T  You  TAKE  HER?  .....  116 

XL  I  LAY  THE  FIRST  STONE  IN  MY  FOUNDATION      .        .  130 

XII.  BACHELOR  COMRADES 141 

XIII.  HAPS  AND  MISHAPS •  149 

XIV.  I  MEET  A  VISION 159 

XV.  THE  GIRL  OF  OUR  PERIOD 172 

XVI.    I   AM   INTRODUCED    INTO    SOCIETY  ....  189 

XVII.  THE  YOUNG  LADY  PHILOSOPHER 200 

XVIIL  FLIRTATION 212 

XIX.  I  BECOME  A  FAMILY  FRIEND 224 

XX.    I   DISCOVER  THE   BEAUTIES   OF  FRIENDSHIP        .          .          234 
XXL    I   AM   INTRODUCED   TO    THE    ILLUMINATI  .  .  .243 

XXII.  I  RECEIVE  A  MORAL  SHOWER-BATH  ....       250 

XXIII.  AUNT  MARIA 257 

XXIV.  A  DISCUSSION  OF  THE  WOMAN  QUESTION  FKOM  ALL 

POINTS 268 

XXV.  COUSIN  CAROLINE  AGAIN 284 

XXVL  EASTER  LILIES 292 

XXVIL  ENCHANTMENT  AND  DISENCHANTMENT         .        .        •  302 

XXVIII.  A  NEW  OPENING 320 

XXIX.  PERTURBATIONS 333 

XXX.  THE  FATES 341 

XXXI.  THE  GAME  OF  CROQUET 350 

XXXII.  THE  MATCH  GAME 359 

217 


vi  CONTENTS 

XXXIII.  LETTER  FROM  EVA  VAN  ARSDEL 365 

XXXIV.  DOMESTIC  CONSULTATIONS 374 

XXXV.  WEALTH  VERSUS  LOVE 381 

XXXVI.  FURTHER  CONSULTATIONS 388 

XXXVII.  MAKING  LOVE  TO  ONE'S  FATHER-IN-LAW    .        .        .395 

XXXVIII.  ACCEPTED  AND  ENGAGED     ......  404 

XXXIX.   CONGRATULATIONS,  ETC.           413 

XL.  THE  EXPLOSION      .     '. 419 

XLI.  THE  WEDDING  AND  THE  TALK  OVER  THE  PRAYER- 
BOOK         .*       ..       ..       .......        .        '.        .425 

XLII.  BOLTON 436 

XLIII.  THE  WEDDING  JOURNEY 440 

XLIV.  MY  WIFE'S  WARDROBE 449 

XLV.  LETTERS  FROM  NEW  YORK 455 

XLVI.  AUNT  MARIA'S  DICTUM 462 

XLVII.  OUR  HOUSE 470 

XL VIII.  PICNICKING  IN  NEW  YORK 475 

XLIX.  NEIGHBORS          .                480 

L.  MY  WIFE  PROJECTS  HOSPITALITIES  ....  486 

LI.  PREPARATIONS  FOR  OUR  DINNER  PARTY      .        .        .  491 

LII.  THE  HOUSE-WARMING 495 

The  frontispiece  (Her  New  Daughter,  page  443)  and  the  vignette  (My 
Child-Wife,  page  11)  are  from  drawings  by  Alice  Barber  Stephens. 


INTEODUCTOEY  NOTE 

IN  the  series  of  papers  now  included  in  Household  Papers 
and  Stories,  Mrs.  Stowe  had  assumed  the  character  of  Chris 
topher  Crowfield.  She  followed  the  same  plan  in  Oldtown 
Folks,  where  she  figured  as  Henry  Holyoke,  and  now,  when 
again  essaying  fiction  which  partook  largely  of  the  didactic 
element,  she  sheltered  herself  behind  the  masculine  fiction 
of  Harry  Henderson.  That  what  she  wished  to  say  re 
specting  society  and  social  ideals  must  be  said  in  the  form 
of  a  story  was  something  of  a  trial  to  her,  and  she  evi 
dently  felt  that  in  casting  her  work  in  this  mould  she  was 
not  following  the  natural  bent  of  her  mind,  for  a  story  to 
her  was  still  the  old-fashioned  piece  of  literature  of  that 
name  which  recounted  adventure;  and  in  the  two  books 
which  related  the  fortunes  and  spiritual  experiences  of  the 
people  grouped  about  Harry  Henderson,  there  was  not,  in 
her  plan,  much  adventure. 

She  wrote  this  book  in  her  Florida  home  in  1871  as  a  serial 
to  be  published  in  The  Christian  Union,  the  new  journal 
conducted  under  the  name  of  her  brother,  Henry  Ward 
Beecher ;  and  when  the  story  was  issued  in  book-form,  it 
came  out  under  the  auspices  of  the  publishers  of  that  paper, 
Messrs.  J.  B.  Ford  &  Co.  The  same  firm  announced  later 
the  sequel  to  this  book,  We  and  our  Neighbors,  to  appear 
in  The  Christian  Union,  where  it  ran  as  a  serial  for  nearly 
a  year,  from  May,  1874,  to  April,  1875,  being  published 
immediately  afterward  in  book  form.  The  attitude  which 
Mrs.  Stowe  took  toward  both  books  is  so  well  defined  in  the 
first  chapter  of  My  Wife  and  I,  as  it  originally  stood,  and 


Viu  INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

that  chapter  was  so  essentially  in  the  nature  of  an  introduc 
tion,  that  it  is  now  disengaged  from  the  book  proper  and 
included  here. 

THE    AUTHOR    DEFINES    HIS    POSITION 

It  appears  to  me  that  the  world  is  returning  to  its  second 
childhood,  and  running  mad  for  Stories.  Stories  !  stories  ! 
stories  !  everywhere  ;  stories  in  every  paper,  in  every  crev 
ice,  crack,  and  corner  of  the  house.  Stories  fall  from  the 
pen  faster  than  leaves  of  autumn,  and  of  as  many  shades 
and  colorings.  Stories  blow  over  here  in  whirlwinds  from 
England.  Stories  are  translated  from  the  French,  from  the 
Danish,  from  the  Swedish,  from  the  German,  from  the 
Russian.  There  are  serial  stories  for  adults  in  the  Atlantic, 
in  the  Overland,  in  the  Galaxy,  in  Harper 's,  in  Scribnenfs. 
There  are  serial  stories  for  youthful  pilgrims  in  OUT  Young 
Folks,  the  Little  Corporal,  "  Oliver  Optic,"  the  Youth's 
Companion,  and  very  soon  we  anticipate  newspapers  with 
serial  stories  for  the  nursery.  We  shall  have  those  charm 
ingly  illustrated  magazines,  the  Cradle,  the  Rocking  CJiair, 
the  First  Rattle,  and  the  First  Tooth,  with  successive 
chapters  of  "  Goosy  Goosy  Gander,"  and  "  Hickory  Dickory 
Dock,"  and  "  Old  Mother  Hubbard,"  extending  through 
twelve,  or  twenty-four,  or  forty-eight  numbers. 

I  have  often  questioned  what  Solomon  would  have  said 
if  he  had  lived  in  our  day.  The  poor  man,  it  appears,  was 
somewhat  blase  with  the  abundance  of  literature  in  his 
times,  and  remarked  that  much  study  was  weariness  to  the 
flesh.  Then,  printing  was  not  invented,  and  "  books " 
were  all  copied  by  hand,  in  those  very  square  Hebrew 
letters  where  each  letter  is  about  as  careful  a  bit  of  work  as 
a  grave-stone.  And  yet,  even  with  all  these  restrictions 
and  circumscriptions,  Solomon  rather  testily  remarked,  "  Of 
making  many  books  there  is  no  end ! "  What  would  he 
have  said  had  he  looked  over  a  modern  publisher's  cata 
logue  ? 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE  ix 

It  is  understood  now  that  no  paper  is  complete  without 
its  serial  story,  and  the  spinning  of  these  stories  keeps  thou 
sands  of  wheels  and  spindles  in  motion.  It  is  now  under 
stood  that  whoever  wishes  to  gain  the  public  ear,  and  to 
propound  a  new  theory,  must  do  it  in  a  serial  story.  Hath 
any  one  in  our  day,  as  in  St.  Paul's,  a  psalm,  a  doctrine,  a 
tongue,  a  revelation,  an  interpretation  —  forthwith  he  wraps 
it  up  in  a  serial  story,  and  presents  it  to  the  public.  We 
have  prison  discipline,  free-trade,  labor  and  capital,  wo 
man's  rights,  the  temperance  question,  in  serial  stories.  We 
have  Romanism  and  Protestantism,  High  Church  and  Low 
Church  and  no  Church,  contending  with  each  other  in  serial 
stories,  where  each  side  converts  the  other,  according  to  the 
faith  of  the  narrator. 

We  see  that  this  thing  is  to  go  on.  Soon  it  will  be 
necessary  that  every  leading  clergyman  should  embody  in 
his  theology  a  serial  story,  to  be  delivered  from  the  pulpit 
Sunday  after  Sunday.  We  look  forward  to  announcements 
in  our  city  papers  such  as  these  :  The  Rev.  Dr.  Ignatius, 
of  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin,  will  begin  a  serial 
romance,  to  be  entitled  "  St.  Sebastian  and  the  Arrows/"7  in 
which  he  will  embody  the  duties,  the  trials,  and  the  tempta 
tions  of  the  young  Christians  of  our  day.  The  Rev.  Dr. 
Boanerges,  of  Plymouth  Rock  Church,  will  begin  a  serial 
story,  entitled  "  Calvin's  Daughter,"  in  which  he  will  dis 
cuss  the  distinctive  features  of  Protestant  theology.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  Cool  Shadow  will  go  on  with  his  interesting 
romance  of  "  Christianity  a  Dissolving  View,"  —  designed 
to  show  how  everything  is,  in  many  respects,  like  every 
thing  else,  and  all  things  lead  somewhere,  and  everything 
will  finally  end  somehow,  and  that  therefore  it  is  important 
that  everybody  should  cultivate  general  sweetness,  and 
have  the  very  best  time  possible  in  this  world. 

By  the  time  all  these  romances  get  to  going,  the  system 
of  teaching  by  parables,  and  opening  one's  mouth  in  dark 


X  INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

sayings,  will  be  fully  elaborated.  Pilgrim's  Progress  will 
be  nowhere.  The  way  to  the  celestial  city  will  be  as  plain 
in  everybody's  mind  as  the  way  up  Broadway  —  and  so 
much  more  interesting  !  Finally  all  science  and  all  art  will 
be  explained,  conducted,  and  directed  by  serial  stories,  till 
the  present  life  and  the  life  to  come  shall  form  only  one 
grand  romance.  This  will  be  about  the  time  of  the  Millen 
nium. 

Meanwhile,  I  have  been  furnishing  a  story  for  the  Chris 
tian  Union,  and  I  chose  the  subject  which  is  in  everybody's 
mind  and  mouth,  discussed  on  every  platform,  ringing  from 
everybody's  tongue,  and  coming  home  to  every  man's  busi 
ness  and  bosom,  to  wit : 

MY    WIFE    AND    I. 

I  trust  that  Miss  Anthony  and  Mrs.  Stanton,  and  all  the 
prophetesses  of  our  day,  will  remark  the  humility  and  pro 
priety  of  my  title.  It  is  not  I  and  My  Wife  —  oh  no  !  It 
is  My  Wife  and  I.  What  am  I,  and  what  is  my  father's 
house,  that  I  should  go  before  my  wife  in  anything  ? 

"  But  why  specially  for  the  Christian  Union  ?  "  says 
Mr.  Chadband.  Let  us  in  a  spirit  of  Love  inquire. 

Is  it  not  evident  why,  0  beloved?  Is  not  that  firm 
in  human  nature  which  stands  under  the  title  of  MY  WIFE 
AND  I,  the  oldest  and  most  venerable  form  of  Christian 
union  on  record  ?  Where,  I  ask,  will  you  find  a  better 
one  ?  —  a  wiser,  a  stronger,  a  sweeter,  a  more  universally 
popular  and  agreeable  one  ? 

To  be  sure,  there  have  been  times  and  seasons  when  this 
ancient  and  respectable  firm  has  been  attacked  as  a  piece  of 
old  fogyism,  and  various  substitutes  for  it  proposed.  It  has 
been  said  that  "  MY  WIFE  AND  I "  denoted  a  selfish,  close 
corporation  inconsistent  with  a  general,  all-sided  diffusive, 
universal  benevolence  ;  that  MY  WIFE  AND  I,  in  a  millen 
nial  community,  had  no  particular  rights  in  each  other  more 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE  xi 

than  any  of  the  thousands  of  the  brethren  and  sisters  of  the 
human  race.  They  have  said,  too,  that  MY  WIFE  AND  I, 
instead  of  an  indissoluble  unity,  were  only  temporary  part 
ners,  engaged  on  time,  with  the  liberty  of  giving  three 
months'  notice,  and  starting  off  to  a  new  firm. 

It  is  not  thus  that  we  understand  the  matter. 

MY  WIFE  AND  I,  as  we  understand  it,  is  the  sign  and 
symbol  of  more  than  any  earthly  partnership  or  union  —  of 
something  sacred  as  religion,  indissoluble  as  the  soul,  end 
less  as  eternity  —  the  symbol  chosen  by  Almighty  Love  to 
represent  his  redeeming,  eternal  union  with  the  soul  of 
man.  A  fountain  of  eternal  youth  gushes  near  the  hearth  of 
every  household.  All  men  and  women  that  have  loved 
truly  have  had  their  romance  in  life  —  their  poetry  in  ex 
istence. 

So  I,  in  giving  my  history,  disclaim  all  other  sources  of 
interest.  Look  not  for  trap-doors,  or  haunted  houses,  or 
deadly  conspiracies,  or  murders,  or  concealed  crimes,  in  this 
history,  for  you  will  not  find  one.  You  shall  have  simply 
and  only  the  old  story  —  old  as  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis 
—  of  Adam  stupid,  desolate,  and  lonely  without  Eve,  and 
how  he  sought  and  how  he  found  her. 

Thus  much,  on  mature  consideration,  I  hold  to  be  about 
the  sum  and  substance  of  all  the  romances  that  have  ever 
been  written,  and  so  long  as  there  are  new  Adams  and  new 
Eves  in  each  coming  generation,  it  will  not  want  for  sym 
pathetic  listeners. 

So  I,  Harry  Henderson  —  a  plain  Yankee  boy  from  the 
mountains  of  New  Hampshire,  and  at  present  citizen  of 
New  York  —  commence  my  story. 

My  experiences  have  three  stages  : 

First,  My  child-wife,  or  the  experiences  of  childhood. 

Second,  My  shadow-wife,  or  the  dreamland  of  the  future. 

Third,  my  real  wife,  where  I  saw  her,  how  I  sought  and 
found  her. 


xii  INTRODUCTORY    NOTE 

In  pursuing  a  story  simply  and  mainly  of  love  and  mar 
riage,  I  am  reminded  of  the  saying  of  a  respectable  serving- 
man  of  European  experiences,  who,  speaking  of  his  position 
in  a  noble  family,  said  it  was  not  so  much  the  wages  that 
made  it  an  object  as  "  the  things  it  enabled  a  gentleman  to 
pick  up."  So  in  our  modern  days,  as  we  have  been  observ 
ing,  it  is  not  so  much  the  story,  as  the  things  it  gives  the 
author  a  chance  to  say.  The  history  of  a  young  American 
man's  progress  toward  matrimony  of  course  brings  him 
among  the  most  stirring  and  exciting  topics  of  the  day, 
where  all  that  relates  to  the  joint  interests  of  man  and 
woman  has  been  thrown  into  the  arena  as  an  open  question, 
and  in  relating  our  own  experiences,  we  shall  take  occasion 
to  keep  up  with  the  spirit  of  this  discussing  age  in  all  these 
matters. 


PEEFACE 

DURING  the  passage  of  this  story  through  The  Christian 
Union,  it  has  been  repeatedly  taken  for  granted  by  the 
public  press  that  certain  of  the  characters  are  designed  as 
portraits  of  really  existing  individuals. 

They  are  not.  The  supposition  has  its  rise  in  an  imper 
fect  consideration  of  the  principles  of  dramatic  composition. 
The  novel-writer  does  not  profess  to  paint  portraits  of  any 
individual  men  and  women  in  his  personal  acquaintance. 
Certain  characters  are  required  for  the  purposes  of  his  story. 
He  conceives  and  creates  them,  and  they  become  to  him 
real  living  beings,  acting  and  speaking  in  ways  of  their  own. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  guided  in  this  creation  by  his 
knowledge  and  experience  of  men  and  women,  and  studies 
individual  instances  and  incidents  only  to  assure  himself  of 
the  possibility  and  probability  of  the  character  he  creates. 
If  he  succeeds  in  making  the  character  real  and  natural, 
people  often  are  led  to  identify  it  with  some  individual  of 
their  acquaintance.  A  slight  incident,  an  anecdote,  a  para 
graph  in  a  paper,  often  furnishes  the  foundation  of  such  a 
character  ;  and  the  work  of  drawing  it  is  like  the  process 
by  which  Professor  Agassiz  from  one  bone  reconstructs  the 
whole  form  of  an  unknown  fish.  But  to  apply  to  any 
single  living  person  such  delineation  is  a  mistake,  and  might 
be  a  great  wrong  both  to  the  author  and  to  the  person 
designated. 

For  instance,  it  being  the  author's  purpose  to  show  the 
embarrassment  of  the  young  champion  of  progressive  prin 
ciples,  in  meeting  the  excesses  of  modern  reformers,  it  came 


XIV  PREFACE 

in  her  way  to  paint  the  picture  of  the  modern  emancipated 
young  woman  of  advanced  ideas  and  free  behavior.  And 
this  character  has  been  mistaken  for  the  portrait  of  an  indi 
vidual,  drawn  from  actual  observation.  On  the  contrary, 
it  was  not  the  author's  intention  to  draw  an  individual,  but 
simply  to  show  the  type  of  a  class.  Facts  as  to  conduct 
and  behavior  similar  to  those  she  has  described  are  unhap 
pily  too  familiar  to  residents  of  New  York.  But  in  this  as 
in  other  cases  the  author  has  simply  used  isolated  facts  in 
the  construction  of  a  dramatic  character  suited  to  the  design 
of  the  story.  If  the  readers  of  to-day  will  turn  back  to 
Miss  Edgeworth's  Belinda,  they  will  find  that  this  style 
of  manners,  these  assumptions  and  mode  of  asserting  them, 
are  no  new  things.  In  the  character  of  Harriet  Freke,  Miss 
Edgeworth  vividly  portrays  the  manners  and  sentiments  of 
the  modern  emancipated  women  of  our  times,  who  think 
themselves 

"Ne'er  so  sure  our  passion  to  create, 
As  when  they  touch  the  brink  of  all  we  hate." 

Certainly  the  author  knows  no  original  fully  answering 
to  the  character  of  Mrs.  Cerulean,  though  she  has  heard 
such  an  one  described ;  and  doubtless  there  are  traits  in 
her  equally  attributable  to  all  fair  enthusiasts  who  mistake 
the  influence  of  their  own  personal  charms  and  fascinations 
over  the  other  sex  for  real  superiority  of  intellect. 

There  are  happily  several  young  women  whose  vigorous 
self-sustaining  careers,  in  opening  paths  of  usefulness  alike 
for  themselves  and  others,  are  like  that  of  Ida  Van  Arsdel ; 
and  the  true  experiences  of  a  lovely  New  York  girl  first 
suggested  the  character  of  Eva ;  yet  both  of  them  are,  in 
execution,  strictly  imaginary  paintings,  adapted  to  the  story. 
In  short,  some  real  character,  or,  in  many  cases,  some  two 
or  three,  furnish  the  germs,  but  the  germs  only,  out  of 
which  new  characters  are  developed. 


PREFACE  XV 

In  close :  The  author  wishes  to  dedicate  this  Story  to 
the  many  dear,  bright  young  girls  whom  she  is  so  happy  as 
to  number  among  her  choicest  friends.  No  matter  what 
the  critics  say  of  it,  if  they  like  it ;  and  she  hopes  from 
them,  at  least,  a  favorable  judgment. 

H.  B.  S. 

TWIN-MOUNTAIN  HOUSE,  N.  H. 
October,  1871. 


MY  WIFE  AND  I 


CHAPTER   I 

MY    CHILD-WIFE 

THE  Bible  says  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone. 
This  is  a  truth  that  has  been  borne  in  on  my  mind,  with 
peculiar  force,  from  the  earliest  of  my  recollection.  In 
fact,  when  I  was  only  seven  years  old  I  had  selected  my 
wife,  and  asked  the  paternal  consent. 

You  see,  I  was  an  unusually  lonesome  little  fellow,  be 
cause  I  belonged  to  the  number  of  those  unlucky  waifs  who 
come  into  this  mortal  life  under  circumstances  when  nobody 
wants  or  expects  them.  My  father  was  a  poor  country 
minister  in  the  mountains  of  New  Hampshire  with  a  salary 
of  six  hundred  dollars,  with  nine  children.  I  was  the 
tenth.  I  was  not  expected;  my  immediate  predecessor  was 
five  years  of  age,  and  the  gossips  of  the  neighborhood  had 
already  presented  congratulations  to  my  mother  on  having 
"done  up  her  work  in  the  forenoon,"  and  being  ready  to 
sit  down  to  afternoon  leisure.  Her  well-worn  baby  clothes 
were  all  given  away,  the  cradle  was  peaceably  consigned  to 
the  garret,  and  my  mother  was  now  regarded  as  without 
excuse  if  she  did  not  preside  at  the  weekly  prayer-meeting, 
the  monthly  Maternal  Association,  and  the  Missionary 
meeting,  and  perform  besides  regular  pastoral  visitations 
among  the  good  wives  of  her  parish. 

No  one,  of  course,  ever  thought  of  voting  her  any  little 
extra  salary  on  account  of  these  public  duties  which  ab- 


2  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

sorbed  so  much  time  and  attention  from  her  perplexing 
domestic  cares  —  rendered  still  more  severe  and  onerous  by 
my  father's  limited  salary.  My  father's  six  hundred  dol 
lars,  however,  was  considered  by  the  farmers  of  the  vicinity 
as  being  a  princely  income,  which  accounted  satisfactorily 
for  everything,  and  had  he  not  been  considered  by  them  as 
"about  the  smartest  man  in  the  State,"  they  could  not 
have  gone  up  to  such  a  figure.  My  mother  was  one  of 
those  gentle,  soft-spoken,  quiet  little  women  who,  like  oil, 
permeate  every  crack  and  joint  of  life  with  smoothness. 
With  a  noiseless  step,  an  almost  shadowy  movement,  her 
hand  and  eye  were  everywhere.  Her  house  was  a  miracle 
of  neatness  and  order,  her  children  of  all  ages  and  sizes 
under  her  perfect  control,  and  the  accumulations  of  labor 
of  all  descriptions  which  beset  a  great  family  where  there 
are  no  servants  all  melted  away  under  her  hands  as  if  by 
enchantment. 

She  had  a  divine  magic  too,  that  mother  of  mine;  if  it 
be  magic  to  commune  daily  with  the  supernatural.  She 
had  a  little  room  all  her  own,  where  on  a  stand  always  lay 
open  the  great  family  Bible,  and  when  work  pressed  hard 
and  children  were  untoward,  when  sickness  threatened, 
when  the  skeins  of  life  were  all  crossways  and  tangled,  she 
went  quietly  to  that  room,  and  kneeling  over  that  Bible, 
took  hold  of  a  warm,  healing,  invisible  hand,  that  made 
the  crooked  straight,  and  the  rough  places  plain. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Henderson  —  another  boy!"  said  the  gos 
sips  on  the  day  that  I  was  born.  "  What  a  shame !  poor 
woman.  Well,  I  wish  her  joy !  " 

But  she  took  me  to  a  warm  bosom  and  bade  God  bless 
me!  All  that  God  sent  to  her  was  treasure.  "Who 
knows,"  she  said  cheerily  to  my  father,  "this  may  be  our 
brightest." 

"  God  bless  him ! "  said  my  father,  kissing  me  and  my 
mother,  and  then  he  returned  to  an  important  treatise 


MY   CHILD-WIFE  3 

which  was  to  reconcile  the  decrees  of  God  with  the  free 
agency  of  man,  and  which  the  event  of  my  entrance  into 
this  world  had  interrupted  for  some  hours.  The  sermon 
was  a  perfect  success  I  am  told,  and  nobody  that  heard  it 
ever  had  a  moment's  further  trouble  on  that  subject. 

As  to  me,  my  outfit  for  this  world  was  of  the  scantest 
—  a  few  yellow  flannel  petticoats  and  a  few  slips  run  up 
from  some  of  my  older  sisters'  cast-off  white  gowns  were 
deemed  sufficient. 

The  first  child  in  a  family  is  its  poem  —  it  is  a  sort  of 
nativity  play,  and  we  bend,  before  the  young  stranger, 
with  gifts,  "gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh."  But  the 
tenth  child  in  a  poor  family  is  prose,  and  gets  simply  what 
is  due  to  comfort.  There  are  no  superfluities,  no  fripper 
ies,  no  idealities  about  the  tenth  cradle. 

As  I  grew  up  I  found  myself  rather  a  solitary  little  fel 
low  in  a  great  house,  full  of  the  bustle  and  noise  and  con 
flicting  claims  of  older  brothers  and  sisters,  who  had  got 
the  floor  in  the  stage  of  life  before  me,  and  who  were  too 
busy  with  their  own  wants,  schemes,  and  plans,  to  regard 
me.  I  was  all  very  well  so  long  as  I  kept  within  the  lim 
its  of  babyhood.  They  said  I  was  the  handsomest  baby 
ever  pertaining  to  the  family  establishment,  and  as  long  as 
that  quality  and  condition  lasted  I  was  made  a  pet  of. 
My  sisters  curled  my  golden  locks  and  made  me  wonderful 
little  frocks,  and  took  me  about  to  show  me.  But  when  I 
grew  bigger,  and  the  golden  locks  were  sheared  off  and 
replaced  by  straight  light  hair,  and  I  \vras  inducted  into 
jacket  and  pantaloons,  cut  down  by  Miss  Abia  Ferkin  from 
my  next  brother's  last  year's  suit,  outgrown  —  then  I  was 
turned  upon  the  world  to  shift  for  myself.  Babyhood  was 
over,  and  manhood  not  begun  —  I  was  to  run  the  gauntlet 
of  boyhood. 

My  brothers  and  sisters  were  affectionate  enough  in  their 
way,  but  had  not  the  least  sentiment,  and,  as  I  said  before, 


4  MY   WIFE   AND  I 

they  had  each  one  their  own  concerns  to  look  after.  My 
eldest  brother  was  in  college,  my  next  brother  was  fitting 
for  college  in  a  neighboring  academy,  and  used  to  walk  ten 
miles  daily  to  his  lessons  and  take  his  dinner  with  him. 
One  of  my  older  sisters  was  married,  the  two  next  were 
handsome  lively  girls,  with  a  retinue  of  beaux,  who  of 
course  took  up  a  deal  of  their  time  and  thoughts.  The 
sister  next  before  me  was  five  years  above  me  on  the  lists 
of  life,  and  of  course  looked  down  on  me  as  a  little  boy 
unworthy  of  her  society.  When  her  two  or  three  chatter 
ing  girl  friends  came  to  see  her  and  they  had  their  dolls 
and  their  baby-houses  to  manage,  I  was  always  in  the  way. 
They  laughed  at  my  awkwardness,  criticised  my  nose,  my 
hair,  and  my  ears  to  my  face,  with  that  feminine  freedom 
by  which  the  gentler  sex  joy  to  put  down  the  stronger  one 
when  they  have  it  at  advantage.  I  used  often  to  retire 
from  their  society  swelling  with  impotent  wrath,  at  their 
free  comments.  "I  won't  play  with  you,"  I  would  ex 
claim.  "Nobody  wants  you,"  would  be  the  rejoinder. 
"We  've  been  wanting  to  be  rid  of  you  this  good  while." 

But  as  I  was  a  stout  little  fellow,  my  elders  thought  it 
advisable  to  devolve  on  me  any  such  tasks  and  errands  as 
interfered  with  their  comfort.  I  was  sent  to  the  store 
when  the  wind  howled  and  the  frost  bit,  and  my  brothers 
and  sisters  preferred  a  warm  corner.  "He's  only  a  boy, 
he  can  go,  or  he  can  do,  or  he  can  wait,"  was  always  the 
award  of  my  sisters. 

My  individual  pursuits,  and  my  own  little  stock  of  in 
terests,  were  of  course  of  no  account.  I  was  required  to 
be  in  a  perfectly  free,  disengaged  state  of  mind,  and  ready 
to  drop  everything  at  a  moment's  warning  from  any  of 
my  half-dozen  seniors.  "Here,  Hal,  run  down  cellar  and 
get  me  a  dozen  apples,"  my  brother  would  say,  just  as  I 
had  half  built  a  block  house.  "Harry,  run  upstairs  and 
get  the  book  I  left  on  the  bed  —  Harry,  run  out  to  the 


MY   CHILD-WIFE  5 

barn  and  get  the  rake  I  left  there  —  Here,  Harry,  carry 
this  up  garret  —  Harry,  run  out  to  the  tool  shop  and  get 
that  "  —  were  sounds  constantly  occurring  —  breaking  up 
my  private  cherished  little  enterprises  of  building  cob 
houses,  making  milldams  and  bridges,  or  loading  carriages, 
or  driving  horses.  Where  is  the  mature  Christian  who 
could  bear  with  patience  the  interruptions  and  crosses  in 
his  daily  schemes  that  beset  a  boy  ? 

Then  there  were  for  me  dire  mortifications  and  bitter 
disappointments.  If  any  company  came  and  the  family 
board  was  filled  and  the  cake  and  preserves  brought  out, 
and  gay  conversation  made  my  heart  bound  with  special 
longings  to  be  in  at  the  fun,  I  heard  them  say,  "No  need 
to  set  a  plate  for  Harry  —  he  can  just  as  well  wait  till 
after.'7  I  can  recollect  many  a  serious  deprivation  of  ma 
ture  life  that  did  not  bring  such  bitterness  of  soul  as  that 
sentence  of  exclusion.  Then  when  my  sister's  admirer, 
Sam  Richards,  was  expected,  and  the  best  parlor  fire 
lighted,  and  the  hearth  swept,  how  I  longed  to  sit  up  and 
hear  his  funny  stories,  how  I  hid  in  dark  corners,  and  lay 
off  in  shadowy  places,  hoping  to  escape  notice  and  so  avoid 
the  activity  of  the  domestic  police.  But  no,  "Mamma, 
mustn't  Harry  go  to  bed?"  was  the  busy  outcry  of  my 
sisters,  desirous  to  have  the  deck  cleared  for  action,  and 
superfluous  members  finally  disposed  of. 

Take  it  for  all  in  all  —  I  felt  myself,  though  not  want 
ing  in  the  supply  of  any  physical  necessity,  to  be  somehow, 
as  I  said,  a  very  lonesome  little  fellow  in  the  world.  In 
all  that  busy,  lively,  gay,  bustling  household  I  had  no 
mate. 

"I  think  we  must  send  Harry  to  school,"  said  my  mo 
ther,  gently,  to  my  father,  when  I  had  vented  this  com 
plaint  in  her  maternal  bosom.  "Poor  little  fellow,  he  is 
an  odd  one!  —  there  isn't  exactly  any  one  in  the  house 
for  him  to  mate  with ! " 


6  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

So  to  school  I  was  sent,  with  a  clean  checked  apron, 
drawn  up  tight  in  my  neck,  and  a  dinner  basket,  and  a 
brown  towel  on  which  I  was  to  be  instructed  in  the  whole 
some  practice  of  sewing.  I  went,  trembling  and  blushing, 
with  many  an  apprehension  of  the  big  boys  who  had  prom 
ised  to  thrash  me  when  I  came;  but  the  very  first  day  I 
was  made  blessed  in  the  vision  of  my  little  child-wife, 
Susie  Morril. 

Such  a  pretty,  neat  little  figure  as  she  was !  I  saw  her 
first  standing  in  the  school-room  door.  Her  cheeks  and 
neck  were  like  wax;  her  eyes  clear  blue;  and  when  she 
smiled,  two  little  dimples  flitted  in  and  out  on  her  cheeks, 
like  those  in  a  sunny  brook.  She  was  dressed  in  a  pink 
gingham  frock,  with  a  clean  white  apron  fitted  trimly  about 
her  little  round  neck.  She  was  her  mother's  only  child, 
and  always  daintily  dressed. 

"0  Susie  dear,"  said  my  mother,  who  had  me  by  the 
hand,  "I  've  brought  a  little  boy  here  to  school,  who  will 
be  a  mate  for  you." 

How  affably  and  graciously  she  received  me  —  the  little 
Eve  —  all  smiles  and  obligingness  and  encouragement  for 
the  lumpish,  awkward  Adam.  How  she  made  me  sit  down 
on  a  seat  by  her,  and  put  her  little  white  arm  cosily  over 
my  neck,  as  she  laid  the  spelling-book  on  her  knee,  saying 
—  "  I  read  in  Baker.  Where  do  you  read  ?  " 

Friend,  it  was  Webster's  Spelling- Book  that  was  their 
text-book,  and  many  of  you  will  remember  where  "  Baker  " 
is  in  that  literary  career.  The  column  of  words  thus 
headed  was  a  milestone  on  the  path  of  infant  progress. 
But  my  mother  had  been  a  diligent  instructress  at  home, 
and  I  an  apt  scholar,  and  my  breast  swelled  as  I  told  little 
Susie  that  I  had  gone  beyond  Baker.  I  saw  "respect 
mingling  with  surprise"  in  her  great  violet  eyes;  my  soul 
was  enlarged  —  my  little  frame  dilated,  as  turning  over  to 
the  picture  of  the  "old  man  who  found  a  rude  boy  on  one 


MY  CHILD-WIFE  7 

of  his  trees  stealing  apples,"  I  answered  her  that  I  had 
read  there! 

"Why-ee/"  said  the  little  maiden;  "only  think,  girls 
—  he  reads  in  readings !  " 

I  was  set  up  and  glorified  in  my  own  esteem;  two  or 
three  girls  looked  at  me  with  evident  consideration. 

"Don't  you  want  to  sit  on  our  side1?"  said  Susie  en 
gagingly.  "I  '11  ask  Miss  Bessie  to  let  you,  'cause  she  said 
the  big  boys  always  plague  the  little  ones."  And  so,  as 
she  was  a  smooth-tongued  little  favorite,  she  not  only  in 
troduced  me  to  the  teacher,  but  got  me  comfortably  niched 
beside  her  dainty  self  on  the  hard,  backless  seat,  where  I 
sat  swinging  my  heels,  and  looking  for  all  the  world  like 
a  rough  little  short- tailed  robin,  just  pushed  out  of  the 
nest,  and  surveying  the  world  with  round,  anxious  eyes. 
The  big  boys  quizzed  me,  made  hideous  faces  at  me  from 
behind  their  spelling-books,  and  great  hulking  Tom  Halli- 
day  threw  a  spitball  that  lodged  on  the  wall  just  over  my 
head,  by  way  of  showing  his  contempt  for  me;  but  I 
looked  at  Susie,  and  took  courage.  I  thought  I  never  saw 
anything  so  pretty  as  she  was.  I  was  never  tired  with 
following  the  mazes  of  her  golden  curls.  I  thought  how 
dainty  and  nice  and  white  her  pink  dress  and  white  apron 
were ;  and  she  wore  a  pair  of  wonderful  little  red  shoes. 
Her  tiny  hands  were  so  skillful  and  so  busy !  She  turned 
the  hem  of  my  brown  towel,  and  basted  it  for  me  so  nicely, 
and  then  she  took  out  some  delicate  ruffling  that  was  her 
school  work,  and  I  admired  her  bright,  fine  needle  and  fine 
thread,  and  the  waxen  little  finger  crowned  with  a  little 
brass  thimble,  as  she  sewed  away  with  an  industrious 
steadiness.  To  me  the  brass  was  gold,  and  her  hands  were 
pearl,  and  she  was  a  little  fairy  princess !  —  yet  every  few 
moments  she  turned  her  great  blue  eyes  on  me,  and  smiled 
and  nodded  her  little  head  knowingly,  as  much  as  to  bid 
me  be  of  good  cheer,  and  I  felt  a  thrill  go  right  to  my 
heart,  that  beat  delightedly  under  the  checked  apron. 


8  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Please,  ma'am,"  said  Susan  glibly,  "mayn't  Harry 
go  out  to  play  with  the  girls?  The  big  boys  are  so  rough." 

And  Miss  Bessie  smiled,  and  said  I  might;  and  I  was 
a  blessed  little  boy  from  that  moment.  In  the  first  recess 
Susie  instructed  me  in  playing  "Tag,"  and  "Oats,  peas, 
beans,  and  barley,  0,"  and  in  "Threading  the  needle,"  and 
playing  "Open  the  gates  as  high  as  the  sky,  to  let  King 
George  and  his  court  pass  by  "  —  in  all  which  she  was  a 
proficient,  and  where  I  needed  a  great  deal  of  teaching  and 
encouraging. 

But  when  it  came  to  more  athletic  feats,  I  could  distin 
guish  myself.  I  dared  jump  off  from  a  higher  fence  than 
she  could,  and  covered  myself  with  glory  by  climbing  to 
the  top  of  a  five-railed  gate,  and  jumping  boldly  down;  and 
moreover,  when  a  cow  appeared  on  the  green  before  the 
school-house  door,  I  marched  up  to  her  with  a  stick  and 
ordered  her  off,  with  a  manly  stride  and  a  determined 
voice,  and  chased  her  with  the  utmost  vigor  quite  out  of 
sight.  These  proceedings  seemed  to  inspire  Susie  with  a 
certain  respect  and  confidence.  I  could  read  in  "readings," 
jump  off  from  high  fences,  and  wasn't  afraid  of  cows! 
These  were  manly  accomplishments! 

The  school-house  was  a  long  distance  from  my  father's, 
and  I  used  to  bring  my  dinner.  Susie  brought  hers  also, 
and  many  a  delightful  picnic  have  we  had  together.  We 
made  ourselves  a  house  under  a  great  button-ball  tree,  at 
whose  foot  the  grass  was  short  and  green.  Our  house  was 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  square,  marked  out  on  the 
green  turf  by  stones  taken  from  the  wall.  I  glorified  my 
self  in  my  own  eyes  and  in  Susie's,  by  being  able  to  lift 
stones  twice  as  heavy  as  she  could,  and  a  big  flat  one, 
which  nearly  broke  my  back,  was  deposited  in  the  centre 
of  the  square,  as  our  table.  We  used  a  clean  pocket-hand 
kerchief  for  a  table-cloth ;  and  Susie  was  wont  to  set  out 
our  meals  with  great  order,  making  plates  and  dishes  out 


MY  CHILD-WIFE  9 

of  the  button-ball  leaves.  Under  her  direction  also,  I 
fitted  up  our  house  with  a  pantry,  and  a  small  room  where 
we  used  to  play  wash  dishes,  and  set  away  what  was  left 
of  our  meals.  The  pantry  was  a  stone  cupboard,  where 
we  kept  chestnuts  and  apples,  and  what  remained  of  our 
cookies  and  gingerbread.  Susie  was  fond  of  ornamenta 
tion,  and  stuck  bouquets  of  golden-rod  and  aster  around  in 
our  best  room,  and  there  we  received  company,  and  had 
select  society  come  to  see  us.  Susie  brought  her  doll  to 
dwell  in  this  establishment,  and  I  made  her  a  bedroom  and 
a  little  bed  of  milkweed-silk  to  lie  on.  We  put  her  to  bed 
and  tucked  her  up  when  we  went  into  school  —  not  with 
out  apprehension  that  those  savages,  the  big  boys,  might 
visit  our  Eden  with  devastation.  But  the  girls'  recess 
came  first,  and  we  could  venture  to  leave  her  there  taking 
a  nap  till  our  play-time  came;  and  when  the  girls  went  in 
Susie  rolled  her  nursling  in  a  napkin  and  took  her  safely 
into  school,  and  laid  her  away  in  a  corner  of  her  desk, 
while  the  dreadful  big  boys  were  having  their  yelling  war- 
whoop  and  carnival  outside. 

"How  nice  it  is  to  have  Harry  gone  all  day  to  school," 
I  heard  one  of  my  sisters  saying  to  the  other.  "He  used 
to  be  so  in  the  way,  meddling  and  getting  into  everything. " 
—  "And  listening  to  everything  one  says,"  said  the  other. 
"Children  have  such  horridly  quick  ears.  Harry  always 
listens  to  what  we  talk  about." 

"I  think  he  is  happier  now,  poor  little  fellow,"  said  my 
mother.  "He  has  somebody  now  to  play  with."  This 
was  the  truth  of  the  matter. 

On  Saturday  afternoons,  I  used  to  beg  of  my  mother  to 
let  me  go  and  see  Susie ;  and  my  sisters,  nothing  loath,  used 
to  brush  my  hair  and  put  on  me  a  stiff,  clean,  checked 
apron,  and  send  me  trotting  off,  the  happiest  of  young  lov 
ers.  How  bright  and  fair  life  seemed  to  me  those  Satur 
day  afternoons,  when  the  sun,  through  the  picket  fences, 


10  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

made  golden-green  lines  on  the  turf  —  and  the  trees  waved 
and  whispered,  and  I  gathered  handfuls  of  golden-rod  and 
asters  to  ornament  our  house,  under  the  button-wood  tree ! 
Then  we  used  to  play  in  the  barn  together.  We  hunted 
for  hens'  eggs,  and  I  dived  under  the  barn  to  dark  places 
where  she  dared  not  go ;  and  climbed  up  to  high  places  over 
the  hay-mow,  where  she  trembled  to  behold  me  —  bringing 
stores  of  eggs,  which  she  received  in  her  clean  white  apron. 

This  daintiness  of  outfit  excited  my  constant  admiration. 
I  wore  stiff,  heavy  jackets  and  checked  aprons,  and  was 
constantly,  so  my  sisters  said,  wearing  holes  through  my 
knees  and  elbows  for  them  to  patch;  but  little  Susie  always 
appeared  to  me  fresh  and  fine  and  untumbled;  she  never 
dirtied  her  hands  or  soiled  her  dress.  Like  a  true  little 
woman,  she  seemed  to  have  nerves  through  all  her  clothes 
that  kept  them  in  order.  This  nicety  of  person  inspired 
me  with  a  secret,  wondering  reverence.  How  could  she 
always  be  so  clean,  so  trim,  and  every  way  so  pretty,  I 
wondered?  Her  golden  curls  always  seemed  fresh  from 
the  brush,  and  even  when  she  climbed  and  ran,  and  went 
with  me  into  the  barn-yard,  or  through  the  swamp  and  into 
all  sorts  of  compromising  places,  she  somehow  picked  her 
way  out  bright  and  unsoiled. 

But  though  I  admired  her  ceaselessly  for  this,  she  was 
no  less  in  admiration  of  my  daring  strength  and  prowess. 
I  felt  myself  a  perfect  Paladin  in  her  defense.  I  remem 
ber  that  the  chip-yard  which  we  used  to  cross,  on  our  way 
to  the  barn,  was  tyrannized  over  by  a  most  loud-mouthed 
and  arrogant  old  turkey-cock,  that  used  to  strut  and  swell 
and  gobble  and  chitter  greatly  to  her  terror.  She  told  me 
of  different  times  when  she  had  tried  to  cross  the  yard 
alone,  how  he  had  jumped  upon  her  and  napped  his  wings, 
and  thrown  her  down,  to  her  great  distress  and  horror. 
The  first  time  he  tried  the  game  on  me,  I  marched  up  to 
him,  and,  by  a  dexterous  pass,  seized  his  red  neck  in  my 


MY   CHILD-WIFE  11 

hand,  and,  confining  his  wings  down  with  my  arm,  walked 
him  ingloriously  out  of  the  yard. 

How  triumphant  Susie  was,  and  how  I  swelled  and  ex 
ulted  to  her,  telling  her  what  I  would  do  to  protect  her 
under  every  supposable  variety  of  circumstances!  Susie 
had  confessed  to  me  of  being  dreadfully  afraid  of  "bears," 
and  I  took  this  occasion  to  tell  her  what  I  would  do  if  a 
bear  should  actually  attack  her.  I  assured  her  that  I 
would  get  father's  gun  and  shoot  him  without  mercy  — 
and  she  listened  and  believed.  I  also  dilated  on  what  I 
would  do  if  robbers  should  get  into  the  house;  I  would,  I 
informed  her,  immediately  get  up  and  pour  shovelfuls  of 
hot  coal  down  their  backs  —  and  wouldn't  they  have  to 
run?  What  comfort  and  security  this  view  of  matters 
gave  us  both!  What  bears  and  robbers  were,  we  had  no 
very  precise  idea,  but  it  was  a  comfort  to  think  how  strong 
and  adequate  to  meet  them  in  any  event  I  was. 

Sometimes,  of  a  Saturday  afternoon,  Susie  was  permitted 
to  come  and  play  with  me.  I  always  went  after  her,  and 
solicited  the  favor  humbly  at  the  hands  of  her  mother,  who, 
after  many  washings  and  dressings  and  cautions  as  to  her 
clothes,  delivered  her  up  to  me,  with  the  condition  that 
she  was  to  start  for  home  when  the  sun  was  half  an  hour 
high.  Susie  was  very  conscientious  in  watching,  but  for 
my  part  I  never  agreed  with  her.  I  was  always  sure  that 
the  sun  was  an  hour  high,  when  she  set  her  little  face 
dutifully  homeward.  My  sisters  used  to  pet  her  greatly 
during  these  visits.  They  delighted  to  twine  her  curls 
over  their  fingers,  and  try  the  effects  of  different  articles  of 
costume  on  her  fair  complexion.  They  would  ask  her, 
laughing,  would  she  be  my  little  wife,  to  which  she  always 
answered  with  a  grave  affirmative. 

Yes,  she  was  to  be  my  wife;  it  was  all  settled  between 
us.  But  when?  I  didn't  see  why  we  must  wait  till  we 
grew  up.  She  was  lonesome  when  I  was  gone,  and  I  was 


12  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

lonesome  when  she  was  gone.  Why  not  marry  her  now, 
and  take  her  home  to  live  with  me  ?  I  asked  her  and  she 
said  she  was  willing,  but  mamma  never  would  spare  her. 
I  said  I  would  get  my  mamma  to  ask  her,  and  I  knew  she 
couldn't  refuse,  because  my  papa  was  the  minister. 

I  turned  the  matter  over  and  over  in  my  mind,  and 
thought  some  time  when  I  could  find  my  mother  alone,  I 
would  introduce  the  subject.  So  one  evening,  as  I  sat  on 
my  little  stool  at  my  mother's  knees,  I  thought  I  would 
open  the  subject,  and  began:  — 

"Mamma,  why  do  people  object  to  early  marriages'?" 

"Early  marriages?"  said  my  mother,  stopping  her  knit 
ting,  looking  at  me,  while  a  smile  flashed  over  her  thin 
cheeks:  "what 's  the  child  thinking  of?  " 

"I  mean,  why  can't  Susie  and  I  be  married  now?  I 
want  her  here.  I  'm  lonesome  without  her.  Nobody 
wants  to  play  with  me  in  this  house,  and  if  she  were  here 
we  should  be  together  all  the  time." 

My  father  woke  up  from  his  meditation  on  his  next 
Sunday's  sermon,  and  looked  at  my  mother,  smiling.  A 
gentle  laugh  rippled  her  bosom. 

"Why,  dear,"  she  said,  "don't  you  know  your  father  is 
a  poor  man,  and  has  hard  work  to  support  his  children 
now?  He  couldn't  afford  to  keep  another  little  girl." 

I  thought  the  matter  over,  sorrowfully.  Here  was  the 
pecuniary  difficulty,  that  puts  off  so  many  desiring  lovers, 
meeting  me  on  the  very  threshold  of  life. 

"Mother,"  I  said,  after  a  period  of  mournful  considera 
tion,  "I  wouldn't  eat  but  just  half  as  much  as  I  do  now, 
and  I  'd  try  not  to  wear  out  my  clothes,  and  make  'em  last 
longer. " 

My  mother  had  very  bright  eyes,  and  there  was  a  min 
gled  flash  of  tears  and  laughter  in  them,  as  when  the  sun 
winks  through  raindrops.  She  lifted  me  gently  into  her 
lap  and  drew  my  head  down  on  her  bosom. 


MY  CHILD-WIFE  13 

"Some  day,  when  my  little  son  grows  to  be  a  man,  I 
hope  God  will  give  him  a  wife  he  loves  dearly.  *  Houses 
and  lands  are  from  the  fathers;  hut  a  good  wife  is  of  the 
Lord,'  the  Bible  says." 

"That 's  true,  dear,"  said  my  father,  looking  at  her  ten 
derly;  "nobody  knows  that  better  than  I  do." 

My  mother  rocked  gently  back  and  forward  with  me  in 
the  evening  shadows,  and  talked  with  me  and  soothed  me, 
and  told  me  stories  how  one  day  I  should  grow  to  be  a 
good  man  —  a  minister,  like  my  father,  she  hoped  —  and 
have  a  dear  little  house  of  my  own. 

"  And  will  Susie  be  in  it  1 " 

"Let 's  hope  so,"  said  my  mother.      "Who  knows? " 

"But,  mother,  aren't  you  sure?  I  want  you  to  say  it 
will  be  certainly." 

"My  little  one,  only  our  dear  Father  could  tell  us  that," 
said  my  mother.  "But  now  you  must  try  and  learn  fast, 
and  become  a  good  strong  man,  so  that  you  can  take  care 
of  a  little  wife." 


CHAPTER   II 

OUR    CHILD-EDEN 

MY  mother's  talk  aroused  all  the  enthusiasm  of  my 
nature.  Here  was  a  motive,  to  be  sure.  I  went  to  bed 
and  dreamed  of  it.  I  thought  over  all  possible  ways  of 
growing  big  and  strong  rapidly  —  I  had  heard  the  stories  of 
Samson  from  the  Bible.  How  did  he  grow  so  strong? 
He  was  probably  once  a  little  boy  like  me.  "  Did  he  go 
for  the  cows,  I  wonder,"  thought  I,  "and  let  down  very 
big  bars  when  his  hands  were  little,  and  learn  to  ride  the 
old  horse  bare-back,  when  his  legs  were  very  short  1 "  All 
these  things  I  was  emulous  to  do;  and  I  resolved  to  lift 
very  heavy  pails  full  of  water,  and  very  many  of  them, 
and  to  climb  into  the  mow,  and  throw  down  great  armfuls 
of  hay,  and  in  every  possible  way  to  grow  big  and  strong. 

I  remember  the  next  day  after  my  talk  with  my  mother 
was  Saturday,  and  I  had  leave  to  go  up  and  spend  it  with 
Susie. 

There  was  a  meadow  just  back  of  her  mother's  house, 
which  we  used  to  call  the  mowing  lot.  It  was  white  with 
daisies,  yellow  with  buttercups,  with  some  moderate  share 
of  timothy  and  herds-grass  intermixed.  But  what  was 
specially  interesting  to  us  was,  that,  down  low  at  the  roots 
of  the  grass,  and  here  and  there  in  moist,  rich  spots,  grew 
wild  strawberries,  large  and  juicy,  rising  on  nice  high 
stalks,  with  three  or  four  on  a  cluster.  What  joy  there 
was  in  the  possession  of  a  whole  sunny  Saturday  afternoon 
to  be  spent  with  Susie  in  this  meadow.  To  me  the  amount 
of  happiness  in  the  survey  was  greatly  in  advance  of  what 


OUR   CHILD-EDEN  15 

I  now  have  in  the  view  of  a  three  weeks'   summer  excur 
sion. 

When,  after  multiplied  cautions  and  directions,  and  care 
ful  adjustment  of  Susie's  clothing,  on  the  part  of  her 
mother,  Susie  was  fairly  delivered  up  to  me;  when  we  had 
turned  our  backs  on  the  house  and  got  beyond  call,  then 
our  bliss  was  complete.  How  carefully  and  patronizingly 
I  helped  her  up  the  loose,  mossy,  stone  wall,  all  hedged 
with  a  wilderness  of  golden-rod,  ferns,  raspberry  bushes, 
and  asters !  Down  we  went  through  this  tangled  thicket, 
into  such  a  secure  world  of  joy,  where  the  daisied  meadow 
received  us  to  her  motherly  bosom,  and  we  were  sure  no 
body  could  see  us. 

We  could  sit  down  and  look  upward,  and  see  daisies  and 
grasses  nodding  and  bobbing  over  our  heads,  hiding  us  as 
completely  as  two  young  grass  birds;  and  it  was  such  fun 
to  think  that  nobody  could  find  out  where  we  were !  Two 
bobolinks,  who  had  a  nest  somewhere  in  that  lot,  used  to 
mount  guard  in  an  old  apple-tree,  and  sit  on  tall,  bending 
twigs,  and  say,  "Chack!  chack!  chack!"  and  flutter  their 
black  and  white  wings  up  and  down,  and  burst  out  into 
most  elaborate  and  complicated  babbles  of  melody.  These 
were  our  only  associates  and  witnesses.  We  thought  that 
they  knew  us,  and  were  glad  to  see  us  there,  and  wouldn't 
tell  anybody  where  we  were  for  the  world.  There  was  an 
exquisite  pleasure  to  us  in  this  sense  of  utter  isolation  —  of 
being  hid  with  each  other  where  nobody  could  find  us. 

We  had  worlds  of  nice  secrets  peculiar  to  ourselves. 
Nobody  but  ourselves  knew  where  the  "thick  spots"  were, 
where  the  ripe,  scarlet  strawberries  grew;  the  big  boys 
never  suspected  them,  we  said  to  one  another,  nor  the  big 
girls ;  it  was  our  own  secret,  which  we  kept  between  our 
own  little  selves.  How  we  searched,  and  picked,  and 
chatted,  and  oh'd  and  ah'd  to  each  other,  as  we  found 
wonderful  places,  where  the  strawberries  passed  all  belief! 


16  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

But  profoundest  of  all  our  wonderful  secrets  were  our 
discoveries  in  the  region  of  animal  life.  We  found,  in  a 
tuft  of  grass  overshadowed  by  wild  roses,  a  grass  bird's 
nest.  In  vain  did  the  cunning  mother  creep  yards  from 
the  cherished  spot,  and  then  suddenly  fly  up  in  the  wrong 
place;  we  were  not  to  be  deceived.  Our  busy  hands 
parted  the  lace  curtains  of  fern,  and,  with  whispers  of 
astonishment,  we  counted  the  little  speckled,  blue-green 
eggs.  How  round  and  fine  and  exquisite,  past  all  gems 
polished  by  art,  they  seemed;  and  what  a  mystery  was  the 
little  curious  smooth-lined  nest  in  which  we  found  them ! 
We  talked  to  the  birds  encouragingly.  "Dear  little  birds," 
we  said,  "don't  be  afraid;  nobody  but  we  shall  know  it;" 
and  then  we  said  to  each  other,  "Tom  Halliday  never  shall 
find  this  out,  nor  Jim  Fellows."  They  would  carry  off 
the  eggs  and  tear  up  the  nest;  and  our  hearts  swelled  with 
such  a  responsibility  for  the  tender  secret,  that  it  was  all 
we  could  do  that  week  to  avoid  telling  it  to  everybody  we 
met.  We  informed  all  the  children  at  school  that  we  knew 
something  that  they  didn't  —  something  that  we  never 
should  tell !  —  something  so  wonderful !  —  something  that 
it  would  be  wicked  to  tell  of  —  for  mother  said  so ;  for  be 
it  observed  that,  like  good  children,  we  had  taken  our 
respective  mothers  into  confidence,  and  received  the  strict 
est  and  most  conscientious  charges  as  to  our  duty  to  keep 
the  birds'  secret. 

In  that  enchanted  meadow  of  ours  grew  tall,  yellow  lilies, 
glowing  as  the  sunset,  hanging  down  their  bells,  six  or 
seven  in  number,  from  high,  graceful  stalks,  like  bell 
towers  of  fairy  land.  They  were  over  our  heads  some 
times,  as  they  rose  from  the  grass  and  daisies,  and  we 
looked  up  into  their  golden  hearts  spotted  with  black,  with 
a  secret,  wondering  joy. 

"Oh,  don't  pick  them,  they  look  too  pretty,"  said  Susie 
to  me  once  when  I  stretched  up  my  hand  to  gather  one  of 


OUR   CHILD-EDEN  17 

these.  "Let 's  leave  them  to  be  here  when  we  come  again! 
I  like  to  see  them  wave." 

And  so  we  left  the  tallest  of  them;  but  I  was  not  for 
bidden  to  gather  handfuls  of  the  less  wonderful  specimens 
that  grew  only  one  or  two  on  a  stalk.  Our  bouquets  of 
flowers  increased  with  our  strawberries. 

Through  the  middle  of  this  meadow  chattered  a  little 
brook,  gurgling  and  tinkling  over  many- colored  pebbles, 
and  here  and  there  collecting  itself  into  a  miniature  water 
fall,  as  it  pitched  over  a  broken  bit  of  rock.  For  our 
height  and  size,  the  waterfalls  of  this  little  brook  were 
equal  to  those  of  Trenton,  or  any  of  the  medium  cascades 
that  draw  the  fashionable  crowd  of  grown-up  people ;  and 
what  was  the  best  of  it  was,  it  was  our  brook,  and  our 
waterfall.  We  found  them,  and  we  verily  believed  nobody 
else  but  ourselves  knew  of  them. 

By  this  waterfall,  as  I  called  it,  which  was  certainly  a 
foot  and  a  half  high,  we  sat  and  arranged  our  strawberries 
when  our  baskets  were  full,  and  I  talked  with  Susie  about 
what  my  mother  had  told  me. 

I  can  see  her  now,  the  little  crumb  of  womanhood,  as 
she  sat,  gayly  laughing  at  me.  "She  didn't  care  a  bit," 
she  said.  -She  had  just  as  lief  wait  till  I  grew  to  be  a 
man.  Why,  we  could  go  to  school  together,  and  have 
Saturday  afternoons  together.  "Don't  you  mind  it,  Hazzy 
Dazzy,"  she  said,  coming  close  up  to  me,  and  putting  her 
little  arms  coaxingly  round  my  neck;  "we  love  each  other, 
and  it 's  ever  so  nice  now." 

I  wonder  what  the  reason  is  that  it  is  one  of  the  first 
movements  of  affectionate  feeling  to  change  the  name  of 
the  loved  one.  Give  a  baby  a  name,  ever  so  short  and 
ever  so  musical,  where  is  the  mother  that  does  not  twist  it 
into  some  other  pet  name  between  herself  and  her  child  1 
So  Susie,  when  she  was  very  loving,  called  me  Hazzy,  and 
sometimes  would  play  on  my  name,  and  call  me  Hazzy 


18  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Dazzy,  and  sometimes  Dazzy,  and  we  laughed  at  this  be 
cause  it  was  between  us;  and  we  amused  ourselves  with 
thinking  how  surprised  people  would  be  to  hear  her  say 
Dazzy,  and  how  they  would  wonder  who  she  meant.  In 
like  manner,  I  used  to  call  her  Daisy  when  we  were  by 
ourselves,  because  she  seemed  to  me  so  neat  and  trim  and 
pure,  and  wore  a  little  flat  hat  on  Sundays  just  like  a  daisy. 

"I  '11  tell  you,  Daisy,"  said  I,  "just  what  I  'm  going  to 
do  —  I  'm  going  to  grow  strong  as  Samson  did." 

"  Oh,  but  how  can  you  1 "  she  suggested  doubtfully. 

"Oh,  I'm  going  to  run  and  jump  and  climb,  and  carry 
ever  so  much  water  for  mother,  and  I'm  to  ride  on  horse 
back  and  go  to  mill,  and  go  all  round  on  errands,  and  so  I 
shall  get  to  be  a  man  fast,  and  when  I  get  to  be  a  man  I  '11 
build  a  house  all  on  purpose  for  you  and  me  —  I  '11  build 
it  all  myself;  it  shall  have  a  parlor  and  a  dining-room  and 
kitchen,  and  bed-room,  and  well-room,  and  chambers  "  — 

"And  nice  closets  to  put  things  in,"  suggested  the  little 
woman. 

"Certainly,  ever  so  many — just  where  you  want  them, 
there  I'll  put  them,"  said  I,  with  surpassing  liberality. 
"And  then,  when  we  live  together,  I'll  take  care  of  you 
—  I'll  keep  off  all  the  lions  and  bears  and  panthers.  If 
a  bear  should  come  at  you,  Daisy,  I  should  tear  him  right 
in  two,  just  as  Samson  did." 

At  this  vivid  picture,  Daisy  nestled  close  to  my  shoulder, 
and  her  eyes  grew  large  and  reflective.  "We  shouldn't 
leave  poor  mother  alone,"  said  she. 

"Oh,  no;  she  shall  come  and  live  with  us,"  said  I,  with 
an  exalted  generosity.  "I  will  make  her  a  nice  chamber 
on  purpose,  and  my  mother  shall  come,  too." 

"But  she  can't  leave  your  father,  you  know." 

"Oh,  father  shall  come,  too  —  when  he  gets  old  and 
can't  preach  any  more.  I  shall  take  care  of  them  all." 

And  my  little  Daisy  looked  at  me  with  eyes  of  approving 


OUR   CHILD-EDEN  19 

credulity,  and  said  I  was  a  brave  boy ;  and  the  bobolinks  chit- 
tered  and  chattered  applause  as  they  sang  and  skirmished 
and  whirled  up  over  the  meadow  grasses;  and  by  and  by, 
when  the  sun  fell  low,  and  looked  like  a  great  golden  ball, 
with  our  hands  full  of  lilies,  and  our  baskets  full  of  straw 
berries,  we  climbed  over  the  old  wall,  and  toddled  home. 

After  that,  I  remember  many  gay  and  joyous  passages  in 
that  happiest  summer  of  my  life.  How,  when  autumn 
came,  we  roved  through  the  woods  together,  and  gathered 
such  stores  of  glossy  brown  chestnuts.  What  joy  it  was 
to  us  to  scuff  through  the  painted  fallen  leaves  and  send 
them  flying  like  showers  of  jewels  before  us!  How  I 
reconnoitred  and  marked  available  chestnut-trees,  and  how 
I  gloried  in  being  able  to  climb  like  a  cat,  and  get  astride 
high  limbs  and  shake  and  beat  them,  and  hear  the  glossy 
brown  nuts  fall  with  a  rich,  heavy  thud  below,  while  Susie 
was  busily  picking  up  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  How  she 
did  flatter  me  with  my  success  and  prowess!  Tom  Halli- 
day  might  be  a  bigger  boy,  but  he  could  never  go  up  a  tree 
as  I  could;  and  as  for  that  great  clumsy  Jim  Fellows,  she 
laughed  to  think  what  a  figure  he  would  make,  going  out 
on  the  end  of  the  small  limbs,  which  would  be  sure  to 
break  and  send  him  bundling  down.  The  picture  which 
Susie  drew  of  the  awkwardness  of  the  big  boys  often  made 
us  laugh  till  the  tears  rolled  down  our  cheeks.  To  this 
day  I  observe  it  as  a  weakness  of  my  sex  that  we  all  take 
it  in  extremely  good  part  when  the  pretty  girl  of  our  heart 
laughs  at  other  fellows  in  a  snug,  quiet  way,  just  between 
one's  dear  self  and  herself  alone.  We  encourage  our  own 
dear  little  cat  to  scratch  and  claw  the  sacred  memories  of 
Jim  or  Tom,  and  think  that  she  does  it  in  an  extremely 
cunning  and  diverting  way  —  it  being  understood  between 
us  that  there  is  no  malice  in  it  —  that  "Jim  and  Tom  are 
nice  fellows  enough,  you  know  —  only  that  somebody  else 
is  so  superior  to  them,"  etc. 


20  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

Susie  and  I  considered  ourselves  as  an  extremely  fore 
handed,  well-to-do  partnership,  in  the  matter  of  gathering 
in  our  autumn  stores.  No  pair  of  chipmunks  in  the  neigh 
borhood  conducted  business  with  more  ability.  We  had 
a  famous  cellar  that  I  dug  and  stoned,  where  we  stored 
away  our  spoils.  We  had  chestnuts  and  walnuts  and  but 
ternuts,  as  we  said,  to  last  us  all  winter,  and  many  an  ear 
nest  consultation  and  many  a  busy  hour  did  the  gathering 
and  arranging  of  these  spoils  cost  us. 

Then,  oh,  the  golden  times  we  had  when  father's  barrels 
of  new  cider  came  home  from  the  press !  How  I  cut  and 
gathered  and  selected  bunches  of  choice  straws,  which  I 
took  to  school  and  showed  to  Susie,  surreptitiously,  at  in 
tervals,  during  school  exercises,  that  she  might  see  what  a 
provision  of  bliss  I  was  making  for  Saturday  afternoons. 
How  Susie  was  sent  to  visit  us  on  these  occasions,  in  leather 
shoes  and  checked  apron,  so  that  we  might  go  in  the  cellar ; 
and  how,  mounted  up  on  logs  on  either  side  of  a  barrel  of 
cider,  we  plunged  our  straws  through  the  foamy  mass  at 
the  bung-hole,  and  drew  out  long  draughts  of  sweet  cider! 
I  was  sure  to  get  myself  dirty  in  my  zeal,  which  she  never 
did;  and  then  she  would  laugh  at  me  and  patronize  me, 
and  wipe  me  up  in  a  motherly  sort  of  way.  "How  do 
you  always  get  so  dirty,  Harry  1  "  she  would  say,  in  a  truly 
maternal  tone  of  reproof.  "  How  do  you  keep  so  clean  ?  " 
I  would  say,  in  wonder;  and  she  would  laugh,  and  call  me 
her  dear,  dirty  boy.  She  would  often  laugh  at  me,  the 
little  elf,  and  make  herself  distractingly  merry  at  my  ex 
pense,  but  the  moment  she  saw  that  the  blood  was  getting 
too  high  in  my  cheeks  she  would  stroke  me  down  with 
praises,  as  became  a  wise  young  daughter  of  Eve. 

Besides  all  this,  she  had  her  little  airs  of  moral  superior 
ity,  and  used  occasionally  to  lecture  me  in  the  nicest  man 
ner.  Being  an  only  darling,  she  herself  was  brought  up 
in  the  strictest  ways  in  which  little  feet  could  go;  and  the 


OUR   CHILD-EDEN  21 

nicety  of  her  conscience  was  as  unsullied  as  that  of  her 
dress.  I  was  hot-tempered  and  heady,  and  under  stress  of 
great  provocation  would  come  as  near  swearing  as  a  minis 
ter's  son  could  possibly  do.  When  the  big  boys  ravaged 
our  house  under  the  tree,  or  threw  sticks  at  us,  I  used  to 
stretch  every  permitted  limit,  and  scream,  "Darn  you!" 
and  "  Confound  you ! "  with  a  vigor  and  emphasis  that 
made  it  almost  equal  to  something  a  good  deal  stronger. 

On  such  occasions  Susie  would  listen  pale  and  frightened, 
and,  when  reason  came  back  to  me,  gravely  lecture  me, 
and  bring  me  into  the  paths  of  virtue.  She  used  to  re 
hearse  to  me  the  teachings  of  her  mother  about  all  manner 
of  good  things.  I  have  her  image  now  in  my  mind,  look 
ing  so  crisp  and  composed  and  neat  in  her  sobriety,  repeat 
ing,  for  my  edification,  the  hymn  which  contained  the  good 
child's  ideal  in  those  days:  — 

"  Oh,  that  it  were  my  chief  delight 

To  do  the  things  I  ought, 
Then  let  me  try  with  all  my  might 
To  mind  what  I  am  taught. 

"Whene'er  I  'm  told,  I  '11  freely  bring 

Whatever  I  have  got, 
And  never  touch  a  pretty  thing, 
When  mother  tells  me  not. 

"  If  she  permits  me,  I  may  tell 

About  my  little  toys, 
But  if  she  's  busy  or  unwell, 
I  must  not  make  a  noise." 

I  can  hear  now  the  delicious  lisp  of  my  little  saint,  and 
see  the  gracious  gravity  of  her  manner.  To  my  mind,  she 
was  unaccountably  well  established  in  the  ways  of  virtue, 
and  I  listened  to  her  little  lectures  with  a  secret  reverence. 

Susie  was  especially  careful  in  the  observation  of  Sun 
day,  and  as  that  is  a  point  where  children  are  apt  to  be 
particularly  weak,  she  would  exhort  me  to  rigorous  exacti 
tude. 


22  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

I  kept  it,  first,  by  thinking  that  I  should  see  her  at 
church,  and  by  growing  very  precise  about  my  Sunday 
clothes,  whereat  my  sisters  winked  at  each  other  and 
laughed  slyly.  Then  at  church  we  sat  in  great  square 
pews  adjoining  to  each  other.  It  was  my  pleasure  to  peep 
through  the  slats  at  Susie.  She  was  wonderful  to  behold 
then,  all  in  white,  with  a  profusion  of  blue  ribbons  and  her 
little  flat  hat  over  her  curls  —  and  a  pair  of  dainty  blue 
shoes  peeping  out  from  her  dress.  She  informed  me  that 
little  girls  never  must  think  about  their  clothes  in  meeting, 
and  so  I  supposed  she  was  trying  to  be  entirely  absorbed 
from  earthly  vanities,  unconscious  of  the  fixed  and  earnest 
stare  with  which  I  followed  every  movement. 

Human  nature  is  but  partially  sanctified,  however,  in 
little  saints  as  well  as  grown-up  ones,  and  I  noticed  that 
occasionally,  probably  by  accident,  the  great  blue  eyes  met 
mine,  and  a  smile,  almost  amounting  to  a  sinful  giggle, 
was  with  difficulty  choked  down.  She  was,  however,  a 
most  conscientious  little  puss  and  recovered  herself  in  a 
moment,  and  looked  gravely  upward  at  the  minister,  not 
one  word  of  whose  sermon  could  she  by  any  possibility  un 
derstand,  severely  devoting  herself  to  her  religious  duties, 
till  exhausted  nature  gave  way.  The  little  lids  would  close 
over  the  eyes  like  blue  pimpernel  before  a  shower,  —  the 
head  would  drop  and  nod,  till  finally  the  mother  would 
dispense  the  little  Christian  from  further  labors,  by  laying 
her  head  on  her  lap  and  drawing  her  feet  up  comfortably 
upon  the  seat,  to  sleep  out  to  the  end  of  the  sermon. 

When  winter  came  on  I  beset  my  older  brother  to  make 
me  a  sled.  Sleds,  such  as  every  boy  in  Boston  or  New 
York  now  rejoices  in,  were  blessings  in  our  parts  unknown; 
our  sled  was  of  rough,  domestic  manufacture. 

My  brother,  laughing,  asked  if  my  sled  was  intended  to 
draw  Susie  on,  and  on  my  earnest  response  in  the  affirma 
tive  he  amused  himself  with  painting  it  in  colors,  red  and 


OUR   CHILD-EDEN  23 

blue,  most  glorious  to  behold.  My  soul  was  magnified 
within  me  when  I  first  started  with  this  stylish  establish 
ment  to  wait  on  Susie.  What  young  fellow  does  not  exult 
in  a  smart  team  when  he  has  a  girl  whom  he  wants  to  daz 
zle  ?  Great  was  my  joy  and  pride  when  I  first  stopped  at 
Susie's  and  told  her  to  hurry  on  her  things,  for  I  had  come 
to  draw  her  to  school! 

What  a  pretty  picture  she  made  in  her  little  blue  knit 
hood  and  mittens,  her  bright  curls  flying  and  cheeks  glow 
ing  with  the  keen  winter  air!  There  was  a  long  hill  on 
the  way  to  school,  and  seated  on  the  sled  behind  her,  I 
careered  gloriously  down  with  exultation  in  my  breast, 
while  a  stream  of  laughter  floated  on  the  breeze  behind  us. 
That  was  a  winter  of  much  coasting  down  hill,  of  red 
cheeks  and  red  noses,  of  cold  toes,  which  we  never  minded, 
and  of  abundant  jollity.  Susie,  under  her  mother's  careful 
showing,  knit  me  a  pair  of  red  mittens,  warming  to  the 
heart  and  delightful  to  the  eyes;  and  I  piled  up  wood  and 
carried  water  for  mother,  and  by  vigorous  economy  earned 
money  enough  to  buy  Susie  a  great  candy  heart  as  big  as 
my  two  hands,  that  had  the  picture  of  two  doves  tied  to 
gether  by  a  blue  ribbon  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  two 
very  red  hearts  skewered  together  by  an  arrow. 

No  work  of  art  ever  gave  greater  and  more  unmingled 
delight.  Susie  gave  it  a  prominent  place  in  her  baby- 
house,  —  and  though  it  was  undeniably  sweet,  as  certain 
little  nibbling  trials  on  its  edges  had  proved,  yet  the  artis 
tic  sense  was  stronger  than  the  palate,  and  the  candy  heart 
was  kept  to  be  looked  at  and  rejoiced  in. 

Susie's  mother  was  an  intimate  and  confidential  friend 
of  my  mother,  and  a  most  docile  and  confiding  sheep  of 
my  father's  flock.  She  regarded  her  minister's  family,  and 
all  that  belonged  to  it,  as  something  set  apart  and  sacred. 
My  mother  had  imparted  to  her  the  little  joke  of  my  matri 
monial  wishes,  and  the  two  matrons  had  laughed  over  it 


24  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

together,  and  then  sighed,  and  said,  "Ah!  well,  stranger 
things  have  happened."  Susie's  mother  told  how  she  used 
to  know  her  husband  when  he  was  a  little  boy,  and  what 
if  it  should  be !  and  then  they  strayed  on  to  the  general 
truth  that  this  was  a  world  of  uncertainty,  and  we  never 
can  tell  what  a  day  may  bring  forth. 

Our  little  idyl,  too,  was  rather  encouraged  by  my  bro 
thers  and  sisters,  who  made  a  pet  and  plaything  of  Susie, 
and  diverted  themselves  by  the  gravity  and  honesty  with 
which  we  devoted  ourselves  to  each  other.  Oh !  dear  igno 
rant  days  —  sweet  little  child-Eden  —  why  could  it  not 
last?  But  it  could  not.  It  was  fleeting  as  the  bobolink's 
song,  as  the  spotted  yellow  lilies,  as  the  grass  and  daisies. 
My  little  Daisy  was  too  dear  to  the  angels  to  be  spared  to 
grow  up  in  our  coarse  world. 

The  winter  passed  and  spring  came,  and  Susie  and  I 
rejoiced  in  the  first  bluebird,  and  found  blue  and  white 
violets  together,  and  went  to  school  together,  till  the  heats 
of  summer  came  on.  Then  a  sad  epidemic  began  to  linger 
around  in  our  mountains,  and  to  be  heard  of  in  neighbor 
ing  villages,  and  my  poor  Daisy  was  scorched  by  its  breath. 
I  remember  well  our  last  afternoon  together  in  the  meadow, 
where,  the  year  before,  we  had  gathered  strawberries.  We 
went  down  into  it  in  high  spirits;  the  strawberries  were 
abundant,  and  we  chatted  and  picked  together  gayly,  till 
Daisy  began  to  complain  that  her  head  ached  and  her  throat 
was  sore.  I  set  her  down  by  the  brook,  and  wet  her  curls 
with  the  water,  and  told  her  to  rest  there,  and  let  me  pick 
for  her.  But  pretty  soon  she  called  me.  She  was  crying 
with  pain.  "0  Hazzy,  dear,  I  must  go  home,"  she  said, 
"Take  me  to  mother."  I  hurried  to  help  her,  for  she 
cried  and  moaned  so  that  I  was  frightened.  I  began  to 
cry,  too,  and  we  came  up  the  steps  of  her  mother's  house 
sobbing  together. 

When  her  mother  came  out  the  little  one  suppressed  hei 


OUR   CHILD-EDEN  25 

tears  and  distress  for  a  moment,  and  turning,  threw  her 
arms  around  my  neck  and  kissed  me.  "Don't  cry  any 
more,  Hazzy,"  she  said;  "we  '11  see  each  other  again." 

Her  mother  took  her  up  in  her  arms  and  carried  her  in, 
and  I  never  saw  my  little  baby-wife  again  on  this  earth ! 
Not  where  the  daisies  and  buttercups  grew;  nor  where  the 
golden  lilies  shook  their  bells,  and  the  bobolinks  trilled; 
not  in  the  school-room,  with  its  many  child-voices;  not  in 
.the  old  square  pew  in  church  —  never,  never  more  that 
trim  little  maiden  form,  those  violet- blue  eyes,  those  golden 
curls  of  hair,  were  to  be  seen  on  earth ! 

My  Daisy's  last  kisses,  with  the  fever  throbbing  in  her 
veins,  very  nearly  took  me  with  her.  From  that  time  I 
have  only  indistinct  remembrances  of  going  home  crying, 
of  turning  with  a  strange  loathing  from  my  supper,  of 
creeping  up  and  getting  into  bed,  shivering  and  burning, 
with  a  thumping  and  beating  pain  in  my  head.  The  next 
morning  the  family  doctor  pronounced  me  a  case  of  the 
epidemic  (scarlet  fever)  which  he  said  was  all  about  among 
children  in  the  neighborhood. 

I  have  dim,  hot,  hazy  recollections  of  burning,  thirsty, 
headachy  days,  when  I  longed  for  cold  water,  and  could 
not  get  a  drop,  according  to  the  good  old  rules  of  medical 
practice  in  those  times.  I  dimly  observed  different  people 
sitting  up  with  me  every  night,  and  putting  different  medi 
cines  in  my  unresisting  mouth;  and  day  crept  slowly  after 
day,  and  I  lay  idly  watching  the  rays  of  sunlight  and  flut 
ter  of  leaves  on  the  opposite  wall. 

One  afternoon,  I  remember,  as  I  lay  thus  listless,  I 
heard  the  village  bell  strike  slowly  —  six  times.  The 
sound  wavered  and  trembled  with  long  and  solemn  inter 
vals  of  shivering  vibration  between.  It  was  the  numbering 
of  my  Daisy's  little  years  on  earth, — the  announcement 
that  she  had  gone  to  the  land  where  time  is  no  more  mea 
sured  by  day  and  night,  for  there  shall  be  no  night  there. 


26  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

When  I  was  well  again  I  remember  my  mother  told  me 
that  my  little  Daisy  was  in  heaven,  and  I  heard  it  with  a 
dull,  cold  chill  about  my  heart,  and  wondered  that  I  could 
not  cry.  I  look  back  now  into  my  little  heart  as  it  was 
then,  and  remember  the  paroxysms  of  silent  pain  I  used 
to  have  at  times,  deep  within,  while  yet  I  seemed  to  be 
like  any  other  boy. 

I  heard  my  sisters  one  day  discussing  whether  I  cared 
much  for  Daisy's  death. 

"He  don't  seem  to,  much,"  said  one. 

"  Oh,  children  are  little  animals,  they  forget  what 's  out 
of  sight,"  said  another. 

But  I  did  not  forget,  —  I  could  not  bear  to  go  to  the 
meadow  where  we  gathered  strawberries,  —  to  the  chestnut- 
trees  where  we  had  gathered  nuts,  —  and  oftentimes,  sud 
denly,  in  work  or  play,  that  smothering  sense  of  a  past, 
forever  gone,  came  over  me  like  a  physical  sickness. 

When  children  grow  up  among  older  people  and  are 
pushed  and  jostled,  and  set  aside  in  the  more  engrossing 
interests  of  their  elders,  there  is  an  almost  incredible 
amount  of  timidity  and  dumbness  of  nature,  with  regard  to 
the  expression  of  inward  feeling,  —  and  yet,  often  at  this 
time  the  instinctive  sense  of  pleasure  and  pain  is  fearfully 
acute.  But  the  child  has  imperfectly  learned  language. 
His  stock  of  words,  as  yet,  consists  only  in  names  and 
attributes  of  outward  and  physical  objects,  and  he  has  no 
phraseology  with  which  to  embody  a  mere  emotional  expe 
rience. 

What  I  felt  when  I  thought  of  my  little  playfellow  was 
a  dizzying,  choking  rush  of  bitter  pain  and  anguish.  Chil 
dren  can  feel  as  acutely  as  men  and  women,  —  but  even  in 
mature  life  experience  has  no  gift  of  expression. 

My  mother  alone,  with  the  divining  power  of  mothers, 
kept  an  eye  on  me.  "Who  knows,"  she  said  to  my  father, 
"  but  this  death  may  be  a  heavenly  call  to  him. " 


OUR    CHILD-EDEN  27 

She  sat  down  gently  by  my  bed  one  night  and  talked 
with  me  of  heaven,  and  the  brightness  and  beauty  there, 
and  told  me  that  little  Susie  was  now  a  fair  white  angel. 

I  remember  shaking  with  a  tempest  of  sobs. 

"But  I  want  her  here,"  I  said.      "I  want  to  see  her." 

My  mother  went  over  all  the  explanations  in  the  pre 
mises,  —  all  that  can  ever  be  said  in  such  cases,  but  I  only 
sobbed  the  more. 

"  /  can't  see  her  !     0  mother,  mother ! " 

That  night  I  sobbed  myself  to  sleep  and  dreamed  a 
blessed  dream. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  again  in  our  meadow,  and 
that  it  was  fairer  than  ever  before;  the  sun  shone  gayly, 
the  sky  was  blue,  and  our  great,  golden  lily  stocks  seemed 
mysteriously  bright  and  fair,  but  I  was  wandering  lonesome 
and  solitary.  Then  suddenly  my  little  Daisy  came  running 
to  meet  me  in  her  pink  dress  and  white  apron,  with  her 
golden  curls  hanging  down  her  neck.  "  0  Daisy,  Daisy  !  " 
said  I,  running  up  to  her.  "Are  you  alive?  —  they  told 
me  that  you  were  dead." 

"No,  Hazzy,  dear,  I  am  not  dead,  — never  you  believe 
that, "  she  said,  and  I  felt  the  clasp  of  her  little  arms  round 
my  neck.  "  Did  n't  I  tell  you  we  'd  see  each  other  again  1 " 

"But  they  told  me  you  were  dead,"  I  said  in  wonder  — 
and  I  thought  I  held  her  off  and  looked  at  her,  —  she 
laughed  gently  at  me  as  she  often  used  to,  but  her  lovely 
eyes  had  a  mysterious  power  that  seemed  to  thrill  all 
through  me. 

"I  am  not  dead,  dear  Hazzy,"  she  said.  "We  never 
die  where  I  am  —  I  shall  love  you  always, "  and  with  that 
my  dream  wavered  and  grew  misty  as  when  clear  water 
breaks  an  image  into  a  thousand  glassy  rings  and  fragments. 
I  thought  I  heard  lovely  music,  and  felt  soft,  clasping 
arms,  and  I  awoke  with  a  sense  of  being  loved  and  pitied, 
and  comforted. 


28  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

I  cannot  describe  the  vivid,  penetrating  sense  of  reality 
which  this  dream  left  behind  it.  It  seemed  to  warm  my 
whole  life,  and  to  give  back  to  my  poor  little  heart  some 
thing  that  had  been  rudely  torn  away  from  it.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  reader  that  has  not  had  experiences  of  the  won 
derful  power  which  a  dream  often  exercises  over  the  wak 
ing  hours  for  weeks  after  —  and  it  will  not  appear  incredi 
ble  that  after  that,  instead  of  shunning  the  meadow  where 
we  used  to  play,  it  was  my  delight  to  wander  there  alone, 
to  gather  the  strawberries  —  tend  the  birds'  nests,  and  lie 
down  on  my  back  in  the  grass  and  look  up  into  the  blue 
sky  through  an  overarching  roof  of  daisies,  with  a  strange 
sort  of  feeling  of  society,  as  if  my  little  Daisy  were  with 
me. 

And  is  it  not  perhaps  so?  Eight  alongside  of  this 
troublous  life,  that  is  seen  and  temporal,  may  lie  the  green 
pastures  and  the  still  waters  of  the  unseen  and  eternal,  and 
they  who  know  us  better  than  we  know  them  can  at  any 
time  step  across  that  little  rill  that  we  call -Death,  to  min 
ister  to  our  comfort. 

For  what  are  these  child-angels  made,  that  are  sent 
down  to  this  world  to  bring  so  much  love  and  rapture,  and 
go  from  us  in  such  bitterness  and  mourning  1  If  we  be 
lieve  in  Almighty  Love  we  must  believe  that  they  have  a 
merciful  and  tender  mission  to  our  wayward  souls.  The 
love  wherewith  we  love  them  is  something  the  most  ut 
terly  pure  and  unworldly  of  which  human  experience  is 
capable,  and  we  must  hope  that  every  one  who  goes  from 
us  to  the  world  of  light  goes  holding  an  invisible  chain  of 
love  by  which  to  draw  us  there. 

Sometimes  I  think  I  would  never  have  had  my  little 
Daisy  grow  older  on  our  earth.  The  little  child  dies  in 
growing  into  womanhood,  and  often  the  woman  is  far  less 
lovely  than  the  little  child.  It  seems  to  me  that  lovely 
and  loving  childhood,  with  its  truthfulness,  its  frank  sin- 


OUR  CHILD-EDEN  29 

cerity,  its  pure,  simple  love,  is  so  sweet  and  holy  an  estate 
that  it  would  be  a  beautiful  thing  in  heaven  to  have  a 
band  of  heavenly  children,  guileless,  gay  and  forever  joy 
ous  —  tender  spring  blossoms  of  the  Kingdom  of  Light. 
Was  it  of  such  whom  he  had  left  in  his  heavenly  home 
our  Saviour  was  thinking,  when  he  took  little  children  up 
in  his  arms  and  blessed  them,  and  said,  "  Of  such  is  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  ?  " 


CHAPTEE   III 

MY    SHADOW-WIFE 

MY  Shadow- Wife!  Is  there  then  substance  in  shadow? 
Yea,  there  may  be.  A  shadow  —  a  spiritual  presence  — 
may  go  with  us  where  mortal  footsteps  cannot  go:  walk  by 
our  side  amid  the  roar  of  the  city;  talk  with  us  amid  the 
sharp  clatter  of  voices;  come  to  us  through  closed  door,  as 
we  sit  alone  over  our  evening  fire;  counsel,  bless,  inspire 
us ;  and  though  the  figure  cannot  be  clasped  in  mortal  arms 
—  though  the  face  be  veiled  —  yet  this  wife  of  the  future 
may  have  a  power  to  bless,  to  guide,  to  sustain  and  con 
sole.  Such  was  the  dream-wife  of  my  youth.  Whence 
did  she  come  ?  She  rose  like  a  white,  pure  mist  from  that 
little  grave.  She  formed  herself  like  a  cloud-maiden  from 
the  rain  and  dew  of  those  first  tears. 

When  we  look  at  the  apparent  recklessness  with  which 
great  sorrows  seem  to  be  distributed  among  the  children  of 
the  earth,  there  is  no  way  to  keep  our  faith  in  a  Fatherly 
love,  except  to  recognize  how  invariably  the  sorrows  that 
spring  from  love  are  a  means  of  enlarging  and  dignifying 
a  human  being.  Nothing  great  or  good  comes  without 
birth-pangs,  and  in  just  the  proportion  that  natures  grow 
more  noble,  their  capacities  of  suffering  increase. 

The  bitter,  silent,  irrepressible  anguish  of  that  childish 
bereavement  was  to  me  the  awakening  of  a  spiritual  nature. 
The  little  creature  who,  had  she  lived,  might  have  grown 
up  perhaps  into  a  commonplace  woman,  became  a  fixed 
star  in  the  heaven  land  of  the  ideal,  always  drawing  me  to 
look  upward.  My  memories  of  her  were  a  spring  of  re- 


MY   SHADOW-WIFE  31 

fined  and  tender  feeling,  through  all  my  early  life.  I 
could  not  then  write ;  but  I  remember  that  the  overflow  of 
my  heart  towards  her  memory  required  expression,  and  I 
taught  myself  a  strange  kind  of  manuscript,  by  copying  the 
letters  of  the  alphabet.  I  bought  six  cents'  worth  of 
paper  and  a  tallow  candle  at  the  store,  which  I  used  to 
light  surreptitiously  when  I  had  been  put  to  bed  nights, 
and,  sitting  up  in  my  little  night-gown,  I  busied  myself 
with  writing  my  remembrances  of  her.  I  could  not,  for 
the  world,  have  asked  my  mother  to  let  me  have  a  candle 
in  my  bed-room  after  eight  o'clock.  I  would  have  died 
sooner  than  to  explain  why  I  wanted  it.  My  purchase  of 
paper  and  candle  was  my  first  act  of  independent  manliness. 
The  money,  I  reflected,  was  mine,  because  I  earned  it 
myself,  and  the  paper  was  mine,  and  the  candle  was  mine, 
so  that  I  was  not  using  my  father's  property  in  an  unwar 
rantable  manner,  and  thus  I  gave  myself  up  to  my  inspira 
tions.  I  wrote  my  remembrances  of  her,  as  she  stood 
among  the  daisies  and  the  golden  lilies.  I  wrote  down  her 
little  words  of  wisdom  and  grave  advice,  in  the  queerest 
manuscript  that  ever  puzzled  a  wise  man  of  the  East.  If 
one  imagines  that  all  this  was  spelled  phonetically,  and  not 
at  all  in  the  unspeakable  and  astonishing  way  in  which  the 
English  language  is  conventionally  spelled,  one  may  truly 
imagine  that  it  was  something  rather  peculiar  in  the  way 
of  literature.  But  the  heart- comfort,  the  utter  abandon 
ment  of  soul  that  went  into  it,  is  something  that  only 
those  can  imagine  who  have  tried  the  like  and  found  the 
relief  of  it.  My  little  heart  was  like  the  Caspian  Sea,  or 
some  other  sea  which  I  read  about,  which  had  found  a 
secret  channel  by  which  its  waters  could  pass  off  under 
ground.  When  I  had  finished,  every  evening,  I  used  to 
extinguish  my  candle,  and  put  it  and  my  manuscripts  in 
side  of  the  straw  bed  on  which  I  slept,  which  had  a  long 
pocket  hole  in  the  centre,  secured  by  buttons,  for  the  pur- 


32  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

pose  of  stirring  the  straw.  Over  this  I  slept  in  conscious 
security,  every  night;  sometimes  with  blissful  dreams  of 
going  to  brighter  meadows,  when  I  saw  my  Daisy  playing 
with  whole  troops  of  beautiful  children,  fair  as  water  lilies 
on  the  shore  of  a  blue  lake.  Thus,  while  I  seemed  to  be 
like  any  other  boy,  thinking  of  nothing  but  my  sled,  and 
my  bat  and  ball,  and  my  mittens,  I  began  to  have  a  little 
withdrawing  room  of  my  own;  another  land  in  which  I 
could  walk  and  take  a  kind  of  delight  that  nothing  visible 
gave  me.  But  one  day  my  oldest  sister,  in  making  the 
bed,  with  domestic  thoroughness,  disemboweled  my  whole 
store  of  manuscripts  and  the  half -consumed  fragment  of 
my  candle. 

There  is  no  poetry  in  housewifery,  and  my  sister  at  once 
took  a  housewifely  view  of  the  proceeding.  "  Well,  now ! 
is  there  any  end  to  the  conjurations  of  boys  1 "  she  said. 
"He  might  have  set  the  house  on  fire  and  burned  us  all 
alive,  in  our  beds !  " 

Reader,  this  is  quite  possible,  as  I  used  to  perform  my 
literary  labors  sitting  up  in  bed,  with  the  candle  standing 
on  a  narrow  ledge  on  the  side  of  the  bedstead. 

Forthwith  the  whole  of  my  performance  was  lodged  in 
my  mother's  hands  —  I  was  luckily  at  school. 

"Now,  girls,"  said  my  mother,  "keep  quiet  about  this; 
above  all,  don't  say  a  word  to  the  boy.  I  will  speak  to 
him." 

Accordingly,  that  night  after  I  had  gone  up  to  bed,  my 
mother  came  into  my  room,  and  when  she  had  seen  me  in 
bed  she  sat  down  by  me  and  told  me  the  whole  discovery. 
I  hid  my  head  under  the  bedclothes,  and  felt  a  sort  of 
burning  shame  and  mortification  that  was  inexpressible; 
but  she  had  a  good  store  of  that  mother's  wit  and  wisdom 
by  which  I  was  to  be  comforted.  At  last  she  succeeded  in 
drawing  both  the  bedclothes  from  my  face  and  the  veil 
from  my  heart,  and  I  told  her  all  my  little  story. 


MY   SHADOW-WIFE  33 

"Dear  boy,"  she  said,  "you  must  learn  to  write,  and 
you  need  not  buy  candles,  you  shall  sit  by  me  evenings 
and  I  will  teach  you;  it  was  very  nice  of  you  to  practice 
all  alone ;  but  it  will  be  a  great  deal  easier  to  let  me  teach 
you  the  writing  letters." 

Now  I  had  begun  the  usual  course  of  writing  copies  in 
school.  In  those  days  it  was  deemed  necessary  to  com 
mence  by  teaching  what  was  called  coarse  hand ;  and  I 
had  filled  many  dreary  pages  with  m's  and  n's  of  a  gigantic 
size;  but  it  never  had  yet  occurred  to  me  that  the  writing 
of  these  copies  was  to  bear  any  sort  of  relation  to  the  ex 
pression  of  thought  and  emotions  within  me  that  were 
clamoring  for  a  vent,  while  my  rude  copies  of  printed  let 
ters  did  bear  to  my  mind  this  adaptation.  But  now  my 
mother  made  me  sit  by  her  evenings,  with  a  slate  and  pen 
cil,  and,  under  her  care,  I  made  a  cross-cut  into  the  fields 
of  practical  handwriting,  and  was  also  saved  the  dangers  of 
going  off  into  a  morbid  habit  of  feeling,  which  might  easily 
have  arisen  from  my  solitary  reveries. 

"Dear,7'  she  said  to  my  father,  "I  told  you  this  one  was 
to  be  our  brightest.  He  will  make  a  writer  yet,"  and  she 
showed  him  my  manuscript. 

"You  must  look  after  him,  mother,"  said  my  father,  as 
he  always  said,  when  there  arose  any  exigency  about  the 
children  that  required  delicate  handling. 

My  mother  was  one  of  that  class  of  women  whose  power 
on  earth  seems  to  be  only  the  greater  for  being  a  spiritual 
and  invisible  one.  The  control  of  such  women  over  men 
is  like  that  of  the  soul  over  the  body.  The  body  is  visi 
ble,  forceful,  obtrusive,  self-asserting.  The  soul  invisible, 
sensitive,  yet  with  a  subtle  and  vital  power  which  con 
stantly  gains  control  and  holds  every  inch  that  it  gains. 

My  father  was  naturally  impetuous,  though  magnani 
mous,  hasty-tempered  and  imperious,  though  conscientious; 
my  mother  united  the  most  exquisite  sensibility  with  the 


34  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

deepest  calm  —  calm  resulting  from  habitual  communion 
with  the  highest  and  purest  source  of  all  rest  —  the  peace 
that  passeth  all  understanding.  Gradually,  by  this  spirit 
ual  force,  this  quietude  of  soul,  she  became  his  leader  and 
guide.  He  held  her  hand  and  looked  up  to  her  with  an 
implicit  trustfulness  that  increased  with  every  year. 

"Where  's  your  mother?  "  was  always  the  fond  inquiry 
when  he  entered  the  house,  after  having  been  off  on  one 
of  his  long  preaching  tours  or  clerical  councils.  At  all 
hours  he  would  burst  from  his  study  with  fragments  of  the 
sermon  or  letter  he  was  writing,  to  read  to  her  and  receive 
her  suggestions  and  criticisms.  With  her  he  discussed  the 
plans  of  his  discourses,  and  at  her  dictation  changed,  im 
proved,  altered,  and  added;  and  under  the  brooding  influ 
ence  of  her  mind,  new  and  finer  traits  of  tenderness  and 
spirituality  pervaded  his  character  and  his  teachings.  In 
fact,  my  father  once  said  to  me,  "She  made  me  by  her 
influence. " 

In  these  days,  we  sometimes  hear  women,  who  have 
reared  large  families  on  small  means,  spoken  of  as  victims 
who  had  suffered  unheard  -  of  oppressions.  There  is  a 
growing  materialism  that  refuses  to  believe  that  there  can 
be  happiness  without  the  ease  and  facilities  and  luxuries  of 
wealth.  But  my  father  and  mother,  though  living  on  a 
narrow  income,  were  never  really  poor.  The  chief  evil  of 
poverty  is  the  crushing  of  ideality  out  of  life  —  the  taking 
away  its  poetry  and  substituting  hard  prose  —  and  this 
with  them  was  impossible.  My  father  loved  the  work  he 
did,  as  the  artist  loves  his  painting  and  the  sculptor  his 
chisel.  A  man  needs  less  money  when  he  is  doing  only 
what  he  loves  to  do  —  what,  in  fact,  he  must  do,  —  pay  or 
no  pay.  St.  Paul  said,  "A  necessity  is  laid  upon  me,  yea, 
woe  is  me,  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel."  Preaching  the 
gospel  was  his  irrepressible  instinct,  a  necessity  of  his 
being.  My  mother,  from  her  deep  spiritual  nature,  was 


MY   SHADOW-WIFE  35 

one  soul  with  my  father  in  his  life-work.  With  the  moral 
organization  of  a  prophetess,  she  stood  nearer  to  heaven 
than  he,  and  looking  in,  told  him  what  she  saw,  and  he, 
holding  her  hand,  felt  the  thrill  of  celestial  electricity. 
With  such  women,  life  has  no  prose;  their  eyes  see  all 
things  in  the  light  of  heaven,  and  flowers  of  paradise  spring 
up  in  paths  that,  to  unanointed  eyes,  seem  only  paths  of 
toil.  I  never  felt,  from  anything  I  saw  at  home,  from  any 
word  or  action  of  my  mother's,  that  we  were  poor,  in  the 
sense  that  poverty  was  an  evil.  I  was  reminded,  to  be 
sure,  that  we  were  poor  in  a  sense  that  required  constant 
carefulness,  watchfulness  over  little  things,  energetic  hab 
its,  and  vigorous  industry  and  self-helpfulness.  But  we 
were  never  poor  in  any  sense  that  restricted  hospitality  or 
made  it  a  burden.  In  those  days,  a  minister's  house  was 
always  the  home  for  all  the  ministers  and  their  families, 
whenever  an  exigency  required  of  them  to  travel,  and  the 
spare  room  of  our  house  never  wanted  guests  of  longer  or 
shorter  continuance.  But  the  atmosphere  of  the  house  was 
such  as  always  made  guests  welcome.  Three  or  four  times 
a  year,  the  annual  clerical  gatherings  of  the  church  filled 
our  house  to  overflowing,  and  necessitated  an  abundant  pro 
vision  and  great  activity  of  preparation  on  the  part  of  the 
women  of  our  family.  Yet  I  never  heard  an  expression  of 
impatience  or  a  suggestion  that  made  me  suppose  they  felt 
themselves  unduly  burdened.  My  mother's  cheerful  face 
was  a  welcome  and  a  benediction  at  all  times,  and  guests 
found  it  good  to  be  with  her. 

In  the  midst  of  our  large  family,  of  different  ages,  of 
vigorous  growth,  of  great  individuality  and  forcefulness  of 
expression,  my  mother's  was  the  administrative  power. 
My  father  habitually  referred  everything  to  her,  and  leaned 
on  her  advice  with  a  childlike  dependence.  She  read  the 
character  of  each,  she  mediated  between  opposing  natures ; 
she  translated  the  dialect  of  different  sorts  of  spirits,  to 


36  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

each  other.  In  a  family  of  young  children,  there  is  a 
chance  for  every  sort  and  variety  of  natures;  and  for  na 
tures  whose  modes  of  feeling  are  as  foreign  to  each  other 
as  those  of  the  French  and  the  English.  It  needs  a  com 
mon  interpreter,  who  understands  every  dialect  of  the  soul, 
thus  to  translate  differences  of  individuality  into  a  common 
language  of  love. 

It  has  often  seemed  to  me  a  fair  question,  on  a  review 
of  the  way  my  mother  ruled  in  our  family,  whether  the 
politics  of  the  ideal  state  in  a  millennial  community  should 
not  be  one  equally  pervaded  by  mother-influences.  The 
woman  question  of  our  day,  as  I  understand  it,  is  this: 
Shall  MOTHERHOOD  ever  be  felt  in  the  public  administra 
tion  of  the  affairs  of  state  ?  The  state  is  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  a  collection  of  families,  and  what  would  be  good 
or  bad  for  the  individual  family  would  be  good  or  bad  for 
the  state. 

Such  as  our  family  would  have  been,  ruled  only  by  my 
father,  without  my  mother,  such  the  political  state  is,  and 
has  been;  there  have  been  in  it  "conscript  fathers,"  but 
no  "conscript  mothers;"  yet  is  not  a  mother's  influence 
needed  in  acts  that  relate  to  the  interests  of  collected  fami 
lies  as  much  as  in  individual  ones  ? 

The  state,  at  this  very  day,  needs  an  influence  like  what 
I  remember  our  mother's  to  have  been,  in  our  great,  vigor 
ous,  growing  family,  —  an  influence  quiet,  calm,  warming, 
purifying,  uniting  —  it  needs  a  womanly  economy  and 
thrift  in  husbanding  and  applying  its  material  resources  — 
it  needs  a  divining  power,  by  which  different  sections  and 
different  races  can  be  interpreted  to  each  other,  and  blended 
together  in  love  —  it  needs  an  educating  power,  by  which 
its  immature  children  may  be  trained  in  virtue  —  it  needs 
a  loving  and  redeeming  power,  by  which  its  erring  and 
criminal  children  may  be  borne  with,  purified,  and  led  back 
to  virtue. 


MY   SHADOW-WIFE  37 

Yet,  while  I  thus  muse,  I  remember  that  such  women 
as  my  mother  are  those  to  whom  in  an  especial  manner  all 
noise  and  publicity  and  unrestful  conflict  are  peculiarly 
distasteful.  My  mother  had  that  delicacy  of  fibre  that 
made  any  kind  of  public  exercise  of  her  powers  an  impos 
sibility.  It  is  not  peculiarly  a  feminine  characteristic,  but 
belongs  equally  to  many  men  of  the  finest  natures.  It  is 
characteristic  of  the  poets  and  philosophers  of  life.  It  is 
ascribed  by  the  sacred  writers  to  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  in 
whom  an  aversion  for  publicity  and  a  longing  for  stillness 
and  retirement  are  specially  indicated  by  many  touching 
incidents.  Jesus  preferred  to  form  around  him  a  family 
of  disciples  and  to  act  on  the  world  through  them,  and  it 
is  remarkable  that  he  left  no  writings  directly  addressed  to 
the  world  by  himself,  but  only  by  those  whom  he  inspired. 

"Women  of  this  brooding,  quiet,  deeply  spiritual  nature, 
while  they  cannot  attend  •  caucuses,  or  pull  political  wires, 
or  mingle  in  the  strife  of  political  life,  are  yet  the  most 
needed  force  to  be  for  the  good  of  the  State.  I  am  per 
suaded  that  it  is  not  till  this  class  of  ivomen  feel  as  vital 
and  personal  responsibility  for  the  good  of  the  State  as 
they  have  hitherto  felt  for  that  of  the  family,  that  we 
shall  gain  the  final  elements  of  a  perfect  society.  The 
laws  of  Rome,  so  said  the  graceful  myth,  were  dictated  to 
Numa  Pompilius  by  the  nymph  Egeria.  No  mortal  eye 
saw  her.  She  was  not  in  the  forum,  or  the  senate.  She 
did  not  strive,  nor  cry,  nor  lift  up  her  voice  in  the  street, 
but  she  made  the  laws  by  which  Home  ruled  the  world. 
Let  us  hope  in  a  coming  day  that  not  Egeria,  but  Mary, 
the  mother  of  Jesus,  the  great  archetype  of  the  Christian 
motherhood,  shall  be  felt  through  all  the  laws  and  institu 
tions  of  society.  That  Mary,  who  kept  all  things  and  pon 
dered  them  in  her  heart  —  the  silent  poet,  the  prophetess, 
the  one  confidential  friend  of  Jesus,  sweet  and  retired  as 
evening  dew,  yet  strong  to  go  forth  with  Christ  against  the 


38  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

cruel  and  vulgar  mob,  and  to  stand  unfainting  by  the  cross 
where  He  suffered! 

From  the  time  that  my  mother  discovered  my  store  of 
manuscripts  she  came  into  new  and  more  intimate  relation 
with  me.  She  took  me  from  the  district  school,  and  kept 
me  constantly  with  herself,  teaching  me  in  the  intervals 
of  domestic  avocations.  I  was  what  is  called  a  mother 's- 
boy,  as  she  taught  me  to  render  her  all  sorts  of  household 
services,  such  as  are  usually  performed  by  girls.  My  two 
older  sisters,  about  this  time,  left  us,  to  establish  a  semi 
nary  in  the  neighborhood,  and  the  sister  nearest  my  age 
went  to  study  under  their  care,  so  that  my  mother  said, 
playfully,  she  had  no  resource  but  to  make  a  girl  of  me. 
This  association  with  a  womanly  nature,  and  this  discipline 
in  womanly  ways,  I  hold  to  have  been  an  invaluable  part 
of  my  early  training.  There  is  no  earthly  reason  which 
requires  a  man,  in  order  to  be  manly,  to  be  unhandy  and 
clumsy  in  regard  to  the  minutias  of  domestic  life;  and 
there  are  quantities  of  occasions  occurring  in  the  life  of 
every  man,  in  which  he  will  have  occasion  to  be  grateful 
to  his  mother,  if,  like  mine,  she  trains  him  in  woman's 
arts  and  the  secrets  of  making  domestic  life  agreeable. 

But  it  is  not  merely  in  this  respect  that  I  felt  the  value 
of  my  early  companionship  with  my  mother.  The  power 
of  such  women  over  our  sex  is  essentially  the  service  ren 
dered  us  in  forming  our  ideal,  and  it  was  by  my  mother's 
influence  that  the  ideal  guardian,  the  "shadow-wife,"  was 
formed,  that  guided  me  through  my  youth.  She  wisely 
laid  hold  of  the  little  idyl  of  my  childhood,  as  something 
which  gave  her  the  key  to  my  nature,  and  opened  before 
me  the  hope  in  my  manhood  of  such  a  friend  as  my  little 
Daisy  had  been  to  my  childhood.  This  wife  of  the  future 
she  often  spoke  of  as  a  motive.  I  was  to  make  myself 
worthy  of  her.  For  her  sake  I  was  to  be  strong,  to  be 
efficient,  to  be  manly  and  true,  and  above  all  pure  in 
thought  and  imagination  and  in  word. 


MY   SHADOW-WIFE  39 

The  cold  mountain  air  and  simple  habits  of  New  Eng 
land  country  life  are  largely  a  preventive  of  open  immoral 
ity;  but  there  is  another  temptation  which  besets  the  boy, 
against  which  the  womanly  ideal  is  the  best  shield  —  the 
temptation  to  vulgarity  and  obscenity. 

It  was  to  my  mother's  care  and  teaching  I  owe  it,  that 
there  always  seemed  to  be  a  lady  at  my  elbow,  when  stories 
were  told  such  as  a  pure  woman  would  blush  to  hear.  It 
was  owing  to  her  that  a  great  deal  of  what  I  supposed  to 
be  classical  literature  both  in  Greek  and  Latin  and  in  Eng 
lish  was  to  me  and  is  to  me  to  this  day  simply  repulsive 
and  disgusting.  I  remember  that  one  time  when  I  was  in 
my  twelfth  or  thirteenth  year,  one  of  Satan's  agents  put 
into  my  hand  one  of  those  stories  that  are  written  with  an 
express  purpose  of  demoralizing  the  young  —  stories  that 
are  sent  creeping  like  vipers  and  rattlesnakes  stealthily  and 
secretly  among  inexperienced  and  unguarded  boys,  hiding 
in  secret  corners,  gliding  under  their  pillows,  and  filling 
their  veins  with  the  fever  poison  of  impurity.  How  many 
boys  in  the  most  critical  period  of  life  are  forever  ruined, 
in  body  and  soul,  by  the  silent  secret  gliding  among  them 
of  these  nests  of  impure  serpents,  unless  they  have  a  mo 
ther,  wise,  watchful,  and  never  sleeping,  with  whom  they 
are  in  habits  of  unreserved  intimacy  and  communion ! 

I  remember  that  when  my  mother  took  from  me  this 
book,  it  was  with  an  expression  of  fear  and  horror  which 
made  a  deep  impression  on  me.  Then  she  sat  by  me  that 
night,  when  the  shadows  were  deepening,  and  told  me  how 
the  reading  of  such  books,  or  the  letting  of  such  ideas  into 
my  mind,  would  make  me  unworthy  of  the  wife  she  hoped 
some  day  I  would  win.  With  a  voice  of  solemn  awe  she 
spoke  of  the  holy  mystery  of  marriage  as  something  so 
sacred,  that  all  my  life's  happiness  depended  on  keeping  it 
pure,  and  surrounding  it  only  with  the  holiest  thoughts. 

It  was   more   the   thrill   of  her   sympathies,    the  noble 


40  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

poetry  of  her  nature  inspiring  mine,  than  anything  she 
said,  that  acted  upon  me  and  stimulated  me  to  keep  my 
mind  and  memory  pure.  In  the  closeness  of  my  commun 
ion  with  her  I  seemed  to  see  through  her  eyes  and  feel 
through  her  nerves,  so  that  at  last  a  passage  in  a  hook  or 
a  sentiment  uttered  always  suggested  the  idea  of  what  she 
would  think  of  it. 

In  our  days  we  have  heard  much  said  of  the  importance 
of  training  women  to  be  wives.  Is  there  not  something 
to  be  said  on  the  importance  of  training  men  to  be  hus 
bands  ?  Is  the  wide  latitude  of  thought  and  reading  and 
expression  which  has  been  accorded  as  a  matter  of  course 
to  the  boy  and  the  young  man,  the  conventionally  allowed 
familiarity  with  coarseness  and  indelicacy,  a  fair  prepara 
tion  to  enable  him  to  be  the  intimate  companion  of  a  pure 
woman?  For  how  many  ages  has  it  been  the  doctrine  that 
man  and  woman  were  to  meet  in  marriage,  the  one  crystal- 
pure,  the  other  foul  with  the  permitted  garbage  of  all  sorts 
of  uncleansed  literature  and  license  1  If  the  man  is  to  be 
the  head  of  the  woman,  even  as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the 
Church,  should  he  not  be  her  equal,  at  least,  in  purity  ? 

My  shadow- wife  grew  up  by  my  side  under  my  mother's 
creative  touch.  It  was  for  her  I  studied,  for  her  I  should 
toil.  The  thought  of  providing  for  her  took  the  sordid 
element  out  of  economy  and  made  it  unselfish.  She  was 
to  be  to  me  adviser,  friend,  inspirer,  charmer.  She  was 
to  be  my  companion,  not  alone  in  one  faculty,  but  through 
all  the  range  of  my  being  —  there  should  be  nothing 
wherein  she  and  I  could  not  by  appreciative  sympathy 
commune  together.  As  I  thought  of  her,  she  seemed 
higher  than  I.  I  must  love  up  and  not  down,  I  said. 
She  must  stand  on  e,  height  and  I  must  climb  to  her  —  she 
must  be  a  princess  worthy  of  many  toils  and  many  labors. 
Gradually  she  became  to  me  a  controlling  power. 

The  thought  of   what   she  would   think  closed  for  me 


MY    SHADOW-WIFE  41 

many  a  book  that  I  felt  she  and  I  could  not  read  together 
—  her  fair  image  barred  the  way  to  many  a  door  and 
avenue,  which  if  a  young  man  enters,  he  must  leave  his 
good  angel  behind,  — for  her  sake  I  abjured  intimacies  that 
I  felt  she  could  not  approve,  and  it  was  my  ambition  to 
keep  the  inner  temple  of  my  heart  and  thoughts  so  pure 
that  it  might  be  a  worthy  resting-place  for  her  at  last. 


CHAPTER   IV 

I    START    FOB    COLLEGE    AND    MY    UNCLE    JACOB 
ADVISES    ME 

THE  time  came  at  last  when  the  sacred  habit  of  intimacy 
with  my  mother  was  broken,  and  I  was  to  leave  her  for 
college.  It  was  the  more  painful  to  her,  as  only  a  year 
before,  my  father  had  died,  leaving  her  more  than  ever 
dependent  on  the  society  of  her  children. 

My  father  died  as  he  had  lived,  rejoicing  in  his  work 
and  feeling  that  if  he  had  a  hundred  lives  to  live,  he  would 
devote  them  to  the  same  object  for  which  he  had  spent 
that  one  —  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  He  left  to  my 
mother  the  homestead  and  a  small  farm,  which  was  under 
the  care  of  one  of  my  brothers,  so  that  the  event  of  his 
death  made  no  change  in  our  family  home  centre,  and  I 
was  to  go  to  college  and  fulfill  the  hope  of  his  heart  and 
the  desire  of  my  mother's  life,  in  consecrating  myself  to 
the  work  of  the  Christian  ministry. 

My  father  and  mother  had  always  kept  sacredly  a  little 
fund  laid  by  for  the  education  of  their  children;  it  was  the 
result  of  many  small  savings  and  self-denials  —  but  self- 
denials  so  cheerfully  and  hopefully  encountered  that  they 
had  almost  changed  their  nature  and  become  preferences. 
The  family  fund  for  this  purpose  had  been  used  in  turn  by 
two  of  my  older  brothers,  who,  as  soon  as  they  gained  an 
independent  foothold  in  life,  appropriated  each  his  first 
earnings  to  replacing  this  sum  for  the  use  of  the  next.  It 
was  not,  however,  a  fund  large  enough  to  dispense  with 
the  need  of  a  strict  economy,  and  a  supplemental  self-help 
fulness  on  our  part. 


I   START  FOR   COLLEGE  43 

The  terms  in  some  of  our  New  England  colleges  are 
thoughtfully  arranged  so  that  the  students  can  teach  for 
three  of  the  winter  months,  and  the  resources  thus  gained 
help  out  their  college  expenses.  Thus  at  the  same  time 
they  educate  themselves  and  help  to  educate  others,  and 
they  study  with  the  maturity  of  mind  and  the  appreciation 
of  the  value  of  what  they  are  gaining,  resulting  from  a 
habit  of  measuring  themselves  with  the  actual  needs  of 
life. 

The  time  when  the  boy  goes  to  college  is  the  time  when 
he  feels  manhood  to  begin.  He  is  no  longer  a  boy,  but  an 
unfledged,  undeveloped  man  —  a  creature,  half  of  the  past 
and  half  of  the  future.  Yet  every  one  gives  him  a  good 
word  or  a  congratulatory  shake  of  the  hand  on  his  entrance 
to  this  new  plateau  of  life.  It  is  a  time  when  advice  is 
plenty  as  blackberries  in  August,  and  often  held  quite  as 
cheap  —  but  nevertheless  a  young  fellow  may  as  well  look 
at  what  his  elders  tell  him  at  this  time,  and  see  what  he 
can  make  of  it. 

As  I  was  "our  minister's  son,"  all  the  village  thought 
it  had  something  to  do  with  my  going.  "Hallo,  Harry, 
so  you  've  got  into  college !  Think  you  '11  be  as  smart  a  man 
as  your  dad?  "  said  one.  "  Wa-al,  so  I  hear  you  're  going 
to  college.  Stick  to  it  now.  I  could  'a'  made  suthin'  ef 
I  'd  'a'  had  larnin'  at  your  age,"  said  old  Jerry  Smith,  who 
rung  the  meeting-house  bell,  sawed  wood,  and  took  care  of 
miscellaneous  gardens  for  sundry  widows  in  the  vicinity. 

But  the  sayings  that  struck  me  as  most  to  the  purpose 
came  from  my  Uncle  Jacob. 

Uncle  Jacob  was  my  mother's  brother,  and  the  doctor 
not  only  of  our  village,  but  of  all  the  neighborhood  for  ten 
miles  round.  He  was  a  man  celebrated  for  medical  know 
ledge  through  the  State,  and  known  by  his  articles  in  medi 
cal  journals  far  beyond.  He  might  have  easily  commanded 
a  wider  and  more  lucrative  sphere  of  practice  by  going  to 


44  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

any  of  the  large  towns  and  cities,  but  Uncle  Jacob  was  a 
philosopher  and  preferred  to  live  in  a  small  quiet  way  in 
a  place  whose  scenery  suited  him,  and  where  he  could  act 
precisely  as  he  felt  disposed,  and  carry  out  all  his  little 
humors  and  pet  ideas  without  rubbing  against  convention 
alities. 

He  had  a  secret  adoration  for  my  mother,  whom  he  re 
garded  as  the  top  and  crown  of  all  womanhood,  and  he  also 
enjoyed  the  society  of  my  father,  using  him  as  a  sort  of 
whetstone  to  sharpen  his  wits  on.  Uncle  Jacob  was  a 
church  member  in  good  standing,  but  in  the  matter  of  belief 
he  was  somewhat  like  a  high-mettled  horse  in  a  pasture,  — 
he  enjoyed  once  in  a  while  having  a  free  argumentative 
race  with  my  father  all  round  the  theological  lot.  Away 
he  would  go  in  full  career,  dodging  definitions,  doubling 
and  turning  with  elastic  dexterity,  and  sometimes  ended  by 
leaping  over  all  the  fences,  with  most  astounding  assertions, 
after  which  he  would  calm  down,  and  gradually  suffer  the 
theological  saddle  and  bridle  to  be  put  on  him  and  go  on 
with  edifying  paces,  apparently  much  refreshed  by  his 
metaphysical  capers. 

Uncle  Jacob  was  reported  to  have  a  wonderful  skill  in 
the  healing  craft.  He  compounded  certain  pills  which 
were  stated  to  have  most  wonderful  effects.  He  was  accus 
tomed  to  exact  that,  in  order  fully  to  develop  their  medical 
properties,  they  should  be  taken  after  a  daily  bath,  and  be 
followed  immediately  by  a  brisk  walk  of  a  specific  duration 
in  the  open  air.  The  steady  use  of  these  pills  had  been 
known  to  make  wonderful  changes  in  the  cases  of  confirmed 
invalids,  a  fact  which  Uncle  Jacob  used  to  notice  with  a 
peculiar  twinkle  in  the  corner  of  his  eye.  It  was  some 
times  whispered  that  the  composition  of  them  was  neither 
more  nor  less  than  simple  white  sugar  with  a  flavor  of 
some  harmless  essence,  but  upon  this  subject  iny  Uncle 
Jacob  was  impenetrable.  He  used  to  say,  with  the  afore- 


I   START  FOR  COLLEGE  45 

mentioned  waggish  twinkle,  that  their  preparation  was  his 
secret. 

Uncle  Jacob  had  always  had  a  special  favor  for  me, 
shown  after  his  own  odd  and  original  manner.  He  would 
take  me  in  his  chaise  with  him  when  driving  about  his 
business,  and  keep  my  mind  on  a  perpetual  stretch  with 
his  odd  questions  and  droll,  suggestive  remarks  or  stories. 
There  was  a  shrewd  keen  quality  to  all  that  he  said,  that 
stimulated  like  a  mental  tonic,  and  none  the  less  so  for  a 
stinging  flavor  of  sarcasm  and  cynicism,  that  stirred  up  and 
provoked  one's  self-esteem.  Yet  as  Uncle  Jacob  was  com 
panionable  and  loved  a  listener,  I  think  he  was  none  the 
less  agreeable  to  me  for  this  slight  touch  of  his  claws. 
One  likes  to  find  power  of  any  kind  —  and  he  who  shows 
that  he  can  both  scratch  and  bite  effectively,  if  he  holds 
his  talons  in  sheath,  comes  in  time  to  be  regarded  as  a  sort 
of  benefactor  for  his  forbearance:  and  so,  though  I  got 
many  a  shrewd  mental  nip  and  gripe  from  my  Uncle  Jacob, 
I  gave  on  the  whole  more  heed  to  his  opinion  than  that  of 
anybody  else  that  I  knew. 

From  the  time  that  I  had  been  detected  with  my  self- 
invented  manuscript,  up  to  the  period  of  my  going  to  col 
lege,  the  expression  of  my  thoughts  by  writing  had  always 
been  a  passion  with  me,  and  from  year  to  year  my  mind 
had  been  busy  with  its  own  creations,  which  it  was  a  solace 
and  amusement  for  me  to  record.  Of  course  there  was 
ever  so  much  crabbed  manuscript,  and  no  less  confused, 
immature  thought.  I  wrote  poems,  essays,  stories,  trage 
dies,  and  comedies.  I  demonstrated  the  immortality  of 
the  soul.  I  sustained  the  future  immortality  of  the  souls 
of  animals.  I  wrote  sonnets  and  odes,  in  whole  or  in  part, 
on  almost  everything  that  could  be  mentioned  in  creation. 

My  mother  advised  me  to  make  Uncle  Jacob  my  literary 
mentor,  and  the  best  of  my  productions  were  laid  under 
his  eye. 


46  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Poor  trash!"  he  was  wont  to  say,  with  his  usual 
kindly  twinkle.  "But  there  must  be  poor  trash  in  the 
beginning.  We  must  all  eat  our  peck  of  dirt,  and  learn 
to  write  sense  by  writing  nonsense."  Then  he  would  pick 
out  here  and  there  a  line  or  expression  which  he  assured 
me  was  "not  bad."  Now  and  then  he  condescended  to 
tell  me  that  for  a  boy  of  my  age,  so  and  so  was  actually 
hopeful,  and  that  I  should  make  something  one  of  these 
days,  which  was  to  me  more  encouragement  than  much 
more  decided  praise  from  any  other  quarter. 

We  all  notice  that  he  who  is  reluctant  to  praise,  whose 
commendation  is  scarce  and  hard-earned,  is  he  for  whose 
good  word  everybody  is  fighting;  he  comes  at  last  to  be 
the  judge  in  the  race.  After  all,  the  fact  which  Uncle 
Jacob  could  not  disguise,  that  he  had  a  certain  good  opin 
ion  of  me,  in  spite  of  his  sharp  criticisms  and  scant  praises, 
made  him  the  one  whose  dicta  on  every  subject  were  the 
most  important  to  me. 

I  went  to  him  in  all  the  glow  of  satisfaction  and  the 
tremble  of  self-importance  that  a  boy  feels  who  is  taking 
the  first  step  into  the  land  of  manhood. 

I  have  the  image  of  him  now,  as  he  stood  with  his  back 
to  the  fire,  and  the  newspaper  in  his  hand,  giving  me  his 
last  counsels.  A  little  wiry,  keen-looking  man,  with  a 
blue,  hawk-like  eye,  a  hooked  nose,  a  high  forehead,  sha 
dowed  with  grizzled  hair,  and  a  crisscross  of  deeply  lined 
wrinkles  in  his  face. 

"So  you  are  going  to  college,  boy!  Well,  away  writh 
you;  there's  no  use  advising  you;  you'll  do  as  all  the 
rest  do.  In  one  year  you  '11  know  more  than  your  father, 
your  mother,  or  I,  or  all  your  college  officers  —  in  fact, 
than  the  Lord  himself.  You  '11  have  doubts  about  the 
Bible,  and  think  you  could  have  made  a  better  one. 
You  '11  think  that  if  the  Lord  had  consulted  you  he  could 
have  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth  better,  and  arranged 


I   START   FOR   COLLEGE  47 

the  course  of  nature  to  more  purpose.  In  short,  you  '11  be 
a  god,  knowing  good  and  evil,  and  running  all  over  crea 
tion  measuring  everybody  and  everything  in  your  pint  cup. 
There  '1-1  be  no  living  with  you.  But  you  '11  get  over  it, 
—  it 's  only  the  febrile  stage  of  knowledge.  But  if  you 
have  a  good  constitution,  you  '11  come  through  with  it." 

I  humbly  suggested  to  him  that  I  should  try  to  keep 
clear  of  the  febrile  stage;  that  forewarned  was  forearmed. 

"Oh,  tut!  tut!  you  must  go  through  your  fooleries. 
These  are  the  regular  diseases,  the  chicken-pox,  measles, 
and  mumps  of  young  manhood;  you  '11  have  them  all.  We 
only  pray  that  you  may  have  them  light,  and  not  break 
your  constitution  for  all  your  life  through,  by  them.  For 
instance,  you  '11  fall  in  love  with  some  baby-faced  young 
thing,  with  pink  cheeks  and  long  eyelashes,  and  goodness 
only  knows  what  abominations  of  sonnets  you  '11  be  guilty 
of.  That  isn't  fatal,  however.  Only  don't  get  engaged. 
Take  it  as  the  chicken-pox  —  keep  your  pores  open,  and 
don't  get  cold,  and  it  '11  pass  off  and  leave  you  none  the 
worse. " 

"  And  she !  "  said  I  indignantly.  "  You  talk  as  if  it 
was  no  matter  what  became  of  her  "  — 

"What,  the  baby?  Oh,  she'll  outgrow  it,  too.  The 
fact  is,  soberly  and  seriously,  Harry,  marriage  is  the  thing 
that  makes  or  mars  a  man;  it 's  the  gate  through  which  he 
goes  up  or  down,  and  you  shouldn't  pledge  yourself  to  it 
till  you  come  to  your  full  senses.  Look  at  your  mother, 
boy;  see  what  a  woman  may  be;  see  what  she  was  to  your 
father,  what  she  is  to  me,  to  you,  to  every  one  that  knows 
her.  Such  a  woman,  to  speak  reverently,  is  a  pearl  of 
great  price ;  a  man  might  well  sell  all  he  had  to  buy  her. 
But  it  isn't  that  kind  of  woman  that  flirts  with  college 
boys.  You  don't  pick  up  such  pearls  every  day." 

Of  course  I  declared  that  nothing  was  further  from  my 
thoughts  than  anything  of  that  nature. 


48  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"The  fact  is,  Harry,  you  can't  afford  fooleries,"  said  my 
uncle.  "You  have  your  own  way  to  make,  and  nothing 
to  make  it  with  but  your  own  head  and  hands,  and  you 
must  begin  now  to  count  the  cost  of  everything.  You 
have  a  healthy,  sound  body;  see  that  you  take  care  of  it. 
God  gives  you  a  body  but  once.  He  don't  take  care  of  it 
for  you,  and  whatever  of  it  you  lose,  you  lose  for  good. 
Many  a  chap  goes  into  college  fresh  as  you  are,  and  comes 
out  with  weak  eyes  and  crooked  back,  yellow  complexion 
and  dyspeptic  stomach.  He  has  only  himself  to  thank  for 
it.  When  you  get  to  college  they  '11  want  you  to  smoke, 
and  you  '11  want  to,  just  for  idleness  and  good  fellowship. 
Now,  before  you  begin,  just  calculate  what  it  '11  cost  you. 
You  can't  get  a  good  cigar  under  ten  cents,  and  your 
smoker  wants  three  a  day,  at  the  least.  There  go  thirty 
cents  a  day,  two  dollars  and  ten  cents  a  week,  or  a  hundred 
and  nine  dollars  and  twenty  cents  a  year.  Take  the  next 
ten  years  at  that  rate,  and  you  can  invest  over  a  thousand 
dollars  in  tobacco  smoke.  That  thousand  dollars,  invested 
in  a  savings  bank,  would  give  a  permanent  income  of  sixty 
dollars  a  year,  — a  handy  thing,  as  you  '11  find,  just  as  you 
are  beginning  life.  Now,  I  know  you  think  all  this  is 
prosy;  you  are  amazingly  given  to  figures  of  rhetoric,  but, 
after  all,  you  've  got  to  get  on  in  a  world  where  things  go 
by  the  rules  of  arithmetic." 

"Well,  uncle,"  I  said,  a  little  nettled,  "I  pledge  you 
my  word  that  I  won't  smoke  or  drink.  I  never  have  done 
either,  and  I  don't  know  why  I  should." 

"Good  for  you!  your  hand  on  that,  my  boy.  You 
don't  need  either  tobacco  or  spirits  any  more  than  you 
need  water  in  your  shoes.  There  's  no  danger  in  doing 
without  them,  and  great  danger  in  doing  with  them;  so 
let 's  look  on  that  as  settled. 

"Now,  as  to  the  rest.  You  have  a  faculty  for  stringing 
words  together,  and  a  hankering  after  it,  that  may  make  or 


I   START   FOR   COLLEGE  49 

spoil  you.  Many  a  fellow  comes  to  naught  because  he  can 
string  pretty  phrases  and  turn  a  good  line  of  poetry.  He 
gets  the  notion  that  he  's  to  be  a  poet,  or  orator,  or  genius 
of  some  sort,  and  neglects  study.  Now,  Harry,  remember 
that  an  empty  bag  can't  stand  upright;  and  that  if  you  are 
ever  to  be  a  writer  you  must  have  something  to  say,  and 
that  you  've  got  to  dig  for  knowledge  as  for  hidden  trea 
sure.  A  genius  for  hard  work  is  the  best  kind  of  genius. 
Look  at  great  writers,  and  see  how  many  had  it.  What 
a  student  Milton  was,  and  Goethe !  Great  fellows,  those ! 
—  like  trees  that  grow  out  in  a  pasture  lot,  with  branches 
all  round.  Composition  is  the  flowering  out  of  a  man's 
mind.  When  he  has  made  growth,  all  studies  and  all 
learning,  all  that  makes  woody  fibre,  go  into  it.  Now, 
study  books;  observe  nature;  practice.  If  you  make  a 
good  firm  mental  growth,  I  hope  to  see  some  blossoms  and 
fruits  from  it  one  of  these  days.  So  go  your  ways,  and 
God  bless  you !  » 

The  last  words  were  said  as  Uncle  Jacob  slipped  into 
my  hand  an  envelope,  containing  a  sum  of  money. 
"You'll  need  it,"  he  said,  "to  furnish  your  room;  and 
harkee!  if  you  get  into  any  troubles  that  you  don't  want 
to  burden  your  mother  with,  come  to  me." 

There  was  warmth  in  the  grip  with  which  these  last 
words  were  said,  and  a  sort  of  misty  moisture  came  over 
his  keen  blue  eye,  —  little  signs  which  meant  as  much 
from  his  shrewd  and  reticent  nature  as  a  caress  or  an  ex 
pression  of  tenderness  might  from  another. 

My  mother's  last  words,  after  hours  of  talk  over  the 
evening  fire,  were  these:  "I  want  you  to  be  a  good  man. 
A  great  many  have  tried  to  be  great  men,  and  failed ;  but 
nobody  ever  sincerely  tried  to  be  a  good  man,  and  failed." 

I  suppose  it  is  about  the  happiest  era  in  a  young  fellow's 
life  when  he  goes  to  college  for  the  first  time.  The  future 
is  all  a  land  of  blue  distant  mists  and  shadows,  radiant  as 


50  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

an  Italian  landscape.  The  boundaries  between  the  possible 
and  the  not  possible  are  so  charmingly  vague !  There  is 
a  pot  of  gold  at  the  end  of  the  rainbow  forever  waiting  for 
each  newcomer.  Generations  have  not  exhausted  it ! 

Balzac  said,  of  writing  his  novels,  that  the  dreaming  out 
of  them  was  altogether  the  best  of  it.  "To  imagine,"  he 
said,  "is  to  smoke  enchanted  cigarettes;  to  bring  out  one's 
imaginations  into  words,  —  that  is  work !  "  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  romance  of  one's  life.  The  dream-life 
is  beautiful,  but  the  rendering  into  reality  quite  another 
thing. 

I  believe  every  boy  who  has  a  good  father  and  mother 
goes  to  college  meaning,  in  a  general  way,  to  be  a  good 
fellow.  He  will  not  disappoint  them.  No!  a  thousand 
times,  no !  In  the  main,  he  will  be  a  good  boy,  —  not 
that  he  is  going  quite  to  walk  according  to  the  counsels  of 
his  elders.  He  is  not  going  to  fall  over  any  precipices  — 
not  he  —  but  he  is  going  to  walk  warily  and  advisedly 
along  the  edge  of  them,  and  take  a  dispassionate  survey  of 
the  prospect,  and  gather  a  few  botanical  specimens  here 
and  there.  It  might  be  dangerous  for  a  less  steady  head 
than  his;  but  he  understands  himself,  and  with  regard  to 
all  things  he  says,  "We  shall  see."  The  world  is  full  of 
possibilities  and  open  questions.  Up  sail,  and  away;  let 
us  test  them ! 

As  I  scaled  the  mountains  and  descended  the  valleys  on 
my  way  to  college,  I  thought  over  all  that  my  mother  and 
Uncle  Jacob  had  said  to  me,  and  had  my  own  opinion  of 
it.  Of  course  I  was  not  the  person  to  err  in  the  ways  he 
had  suggested.  I  was  not  to  be  the  dupe  of  a  boy  and  girl 
flirtation.  My  standard  of  manhood  was  too  exalted,  I 
reflected,  and  I  thought  with  complacency  how  little  Uncle 
Jacob  knew  of  me. 

To  be  sure,  it  is  a  curious  kind  of  a  thought  to  a  young 
man,  that  somewhere  in  this  world,  unknown  to  him,  and 


I   START   FOR   COLLEGE  51 

as  yet  unknowing  him,  lives  the  woman  that  is  to  be  his 
earthly  fate,  —  to  affect,  for  good  or  evil,  his  destiny.  We 
have  all  read  the  pretty  story  about  the  Princess  of  China 
and  the  young  Prince  of  Tartary,  whom  a  fairy  and  genius 
in  a  freak  of  caprice  showed  to  each  other  in  an  enchanted 
sleep,  and  then  whisked  away  again,  leaving  them  to  years 
of  vain  pursuit  and  wanderings.  Such  is  the  ideal  image 
of  somebody,  who  must  exist  somewhere,  and  is  to  be 
found  some  time,  and  when  found  is  to  be  ours. 

"Uncle  Jacob  is  all  right  in  the  main,"  I  said;  "but  if 
I  should  meet  the  true  woman  even  in  my  college  days, 
why  that,  indeed,  would  be  quite  another  thing." 


CHAPTER   V 

MY    DREAM-WIFE 

ALL  things  prospered  with  me  in  my  college  life.  I 
had  a  sunny  room  commanding  a  fine  prospect,  and  Uncle 
Jacob's  parting  liberality  enabled  me  to  furnish  it  commo- 
diously.  I  bought  the  furniture  of  a  departing  senior  at 
a  reduced  price,  and  felt  quite  the  spirit  of  a  householder 
in  my  possessions.  I  was  well  prepared  in  my  studies  and 
did  not  find  my  tasks  difficult. 

My  stock  of  interior  garnishment  included  several  French 
lithographs,  for  the  most  part  of  female  heads,  looking  up, 
with  very  dark  bright  eyes,  or  looking  down,  with  very 
long  dark  eyelashes.  These  heads  of  dream-women  are, 
after  all,  not  to  be  laughed  at;  they  show  the  yearning  for 
womanly  influences  and  womanly  society  which  follows  the 
young  man  in  his  enforced  monastic  seclusion  from  all 
family  life  and  family  atmosphere.  These  little  fanciful 
French  lithographs,  generally,  are  chosen  for  quite  other 
than  artistic  reasons.  If  we  search  into  it  we  shall  find 
that  one  is  selected  because  it  is  like  sister  "Nell,"  and 
another  puts  one  in  mind  of  "Bessie,"  and  then  again, 
there  is  another  "like  a  girl  I  used  to  know."  Now  and 
then  one  of  them  has  such  a  piquant,  provoking  air  of 
individuality,  that  one  is  sure  it  must  have  been  sketched 
from  nature.  Some  teasing,  coaxing,  "don't-care-what- 
you-think "  sort  of  a  sprite  must  have  wreathed  poppies 
and  blue  corn-flowers  just  so  in  her  hair,  and  looked  gay 
defiance  at  the  artist  who  drew  it.  There  was  such  a 
saucy,  spirited  gypsy  over  my  mantel-piece,  who  seemed 


MY   DREAM- WIFE  53 

to  defy  me  to  find  her  if  I  searched  the  world  over  —  with 
whom  I  held  sometimes  airy  colloquies  —  not  in  the  least 
was  she  like  my  dream-wife,  but  I  liked  her  for  all  that, 
and  thought  I  would  "give  something"  to  know  what  she 
would  have  to  say  to  me,  just  for  the  curiosity  of  the 
thing. 

The  college  was  in  a  little  village,  and  there  was  no  par 
ticular  amity  between  the  townspeople  and  the  students. 
I  believe  it  is  the  understanding  in  such  cases,  that  college 
students  are  to  be  regarded  and  treated  as  a  tribe  of  Bedouin 
Arabs,  whose  hand  is  against  every  man,  and  they  in  their 
turn  are  not  backward  to  make  good  the  character.  Public 
opinion  shuts  them  up  together  —  they  are  a  state  within 
a  state  —  with  a  public  sentiment,  laws,  manners,  and 
modes  of  thinking  of  their  own.  It  is  a  state,  too,  with 
out  women.  When  we  think  of  this,  and  remember  that 
all  this  experience  is  gone  through  in  the  most  gaseous  and 
yeasty  period  of  human  existence,  we  no  longer  wonder 
that  there  are  college  rows  and  scrapes,  that  all  sorts  of 
grotesque  capers  become  hereditary  and  traditional,  that  an 
apple-cart  occasionally  appears  on  top  of  one  of  the  steeples, 
that  cannon-balls  are  rolled  surreptitiously  down  the  college 
stairs,  and  that  tutors'  doors  are  mysteriously  found  locked 
at  recitation  hours.  One  simply  wonders  that  the  roof  is 
not  blown  off,  and  the  windows  out,  by  the  combined  ex 
citability  of  so  many  fermenting  natures. 

There  is  a  tendency  now  in  society  to  open  the  college 
course  equally  to  women  —  to  continue  through  college  life 
that  interaction  of  the  comparative  influence  of  the  sexes 
which  is  begun  in  the  family.  To  a  certain  extent  this 
experiment  has  been  always  favorably  tried  in  the  New 
England  rural  Academies,  where  young  men  are  fitted  for 
college  in  the  same  classes  and  studies  with  women. 

In  these  time-honored  institutions,  young  wTomen  have 
kept  step  with  young  men  in  the  daily  pursuit  of  science, 


54  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

not  only  without  disorder  or  unseemly  scandal,  but  with 
manifestly  more  quietness  and  refinement  of  manner  than 
obtains  in  institutions  where  female  association  ceases  alto 
gether.  The  presence  of  a  couple  of  dozen  of  well-bred 
ladies  in  the  lecture  and  recitation  rooms  of  a  college  would 
probably  be  a  preventive  of  many  of  the  unseemly  and 
clumsy  jokes  wherewith  it  has  been  customary  to  diversify 
the  paths  of  science,  to  the  affliction  of  the  souls  of  profes 
sors. 

But  for  us  boys  there  was  no  gospel  of  womanhood 
except  what  was  to  be  got  from  the  letters  of  mothers  and 
sisters,  and  such  imperfect  and  flitting  acquaintance  as  we 
could  pick  up  in  the  streets  with  the  girls  of  the  village. 
Now,  though  there  might  be  profit  could  young  men  and 
women  see  each  other  daily  under  the  responsibility  of  seri 
ous  business,  keeping  step  with  one  another  in  higher 
studies,  yet  it  by  no  means  follows  that  this  kind  of 
flitting  glimpse-like  acquaintance,  formed  merely  in  the 
exchange  of  a  few  outside  superficialities,  can  have  any  par 
ticularly  good  effect.  No  element  of  true,  worthy  friend 
ship,  of  sober  appreciation,  or  manly  or  womanly  good 
sense,  generally  enters  into  these  girl  and  boy  flirtations, 
which  are  the  only  substitute  for  family  association  during 
the  barren  years  of  student  life.  The  students  were  not 
often  invited  into  families,  and  those  who  gained  a  charac 
ter  as  ladies'  men  were  not  favorably  looked  upon  by  our 
elders.  Now  and  then  by  rare  and  exceptional  good  luck 
a  college  student  is  made  at  home  in  some  good  family, 
where  there  is  a  nice,  kind  mother  and  the  wholesome 
atmosphere  of  human  life;  or,  he  forms  the  acquaintance 
of  some  woman,  older  and  wiser  than  himself,  who  can  talk 
with  him  on  all  the  multitude  of  topics  his  college  studies 
suggest.  But  such  cases  are  only  exceptions.  In  general 
there  is  no  choice  between  flirtation  and  monastic  isolation. 

For  my  part,  I  posed  myself  on  the  exemplary  platform, 


MY   DREAM- WIFE  55 

and  remembering  my  Uncle  Jacob's  advice,  contemplated 
life  with  the  grim  rigidity  of  a  philosopher.  I  was  going 
to  have  no  trifling,  and  surveyed  the  girls  at  church,  on 
Sunday,  with  a  distant  and  severe  air  —  as  gay  creatures 
of  an  hour,  who  could  hold  no  place  in  my  serious  medi 
tations.  Plato  or  Aristotle,  in  person,  could  not  have  con 
templated  life  and  society  from  a  more  serene  height  of 
composure.  I  was  favorably  known  by  my  teachers,  and 
held  rank  at  the  head  of  my  class,  and  was  stigmatized  as 
a  "dig"  by  frisky  young  gentlemen  who  enjoyed  rolling 
cannon-balls  downstairs  —  taking  the  tongue  out  of  the 
chapel  bell  —  greasing  the  seats,  and  other  threadbare 
college  jokes,  which  they  had  not  genius  enough  to  vary, 
so  as  to  give  them  a  spice  of  originality. 

But  one  bright  June  Sunday — just  one  of  those  days 
that  seem  made  to  put  all  one's  philosophy  into  confusion, 
when  apple-blossoms  were  bursting  their  pink  shells,  and 
robins  singing,  and  leaves  twittering  and  talking  to  each 
other  in  undertones,  there  came  to  me  a  great  revelation. 

How  innocently  I  brushed  my  hair  and  tied  my  neck 
tie  on  that  fateful  morning,  contemplating  my  growing 
mustache  and  whiskers  hopefully  in  the  small  square  of 
looking-glass  which  served  for  me  these  useful  purposes  of 
self-knowledge.  I  looked  at  my  lineaments  as  those  of  a 
free  young  junior,  without  fear  and  without  anxiety,  with 
out  even  an  incipient  inquiry  what  anybody  else  would 
think  of  them  —  least  of  all  any  woman  —  and  marched 
forth  obediently  and  took  my  wonted  seat  in  that  gallery 
of  the  village  church  which  was  assigned  to  the  college 
students  of  Congregational  descent;  where,  like  so  many 
sheep  in  a  pen,  we  joined  in  the  services  of  the  common 
sheepfold. 

I  suppose  there  is  moral  profit  even  in  the  decent  self- 
denial  of  such  weekly  recurring  religious  exercises.  To  be 
forced  to  a  certain  period  of  silence,  order,  quiet,  and  to 


56  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

have  therein  a  possibility  and  a  suggestion  of  communion 
with  a  Higher  Power,  and  an  outlook  into  immortality,  is 
something  not  to  be  undervalued  in  education,  and  -justifies 
the  stringency  with  which  our  New  England  colleges  pre 
serve  and  guard  this  part  of  their  regime. 

But  it  was  to  be  confessed  in  our  case,  that  the  number 
who  really  seemed  to  have  any  spiritual  participation  or 
sympathy  in  the  great  purposes  of  the  exercises  was  not  a 
majority.  A  general,  dull  decency  of  demeanor  was  the 
most  frequent  attainment,  and  such  small  recreations  were 
in  vogue  as  could  be  pursued  without  drawing  the  attention 
of  the  monitors.  There  was  some  telegraphy  of  eyes  be 
tween  the  girls  of  the  village  and  some  of  the  more  society- 
loving  fellows,  who  had  cultivated  intimacies  in  that  quar 
ter;  there  were  some  novels,  stealthily  introduced  and 
artfully  concealed  and  read  by  the  owner,  while  his  head, 
resting  on  the  seat  before  him,  seemed  bowed  in  devotion; 
and  some  artistic  exercises  in  sketching  caricatures  on  the 
part  of  others.  For  my  own  part,  having  been  trained 
religiously,  I  gave  strict  outward  and  decorous  attention ; 
but  the  fact  wras  that  my  mind  generally  sailed  off  on  some 
cloud  of  fancy,  and  wandered  through  dreamland,  so  that 
not  a  word  of  anything  present  reached  my  ear.  This 
habit  of  reverie  and  castle-building,  repressed  all  the  week 
by  the  severe  necessity  of  definite  tasks,  came  upon  me 
Sundays  as  Bunyan  describes  the  hot,  sleepy  atmosphere 
of  the  enchanted  ground. 

Our  pastor  was  a  good  man,  who  wrote  a  kind  of  smooth, 
elegant,  unexceptionable  English;  whose  measured  cadences 
and  easy  flow  were,  to  use  the  Scripture  language,  as  a 
"very  lovely  song  of  one  that  hath  a  pleasant  voice,  and 
can  play  sweetly  upon  an  instrument."  I  heard  him  as 
one  hears  murmurs  and  voices  through  one's  sleep,  while 
my  spirit  went  everywhere  under  the  sun.  I  traveled  in 
foreign  lands,  I  saw  pictures,  cathedrals;  I  had  thrilling 


MY   DREAM-WIFE  57 

adventures  and  hairbreadth  escapes;  formed  strange  and 
exciting  acquaintances;  in  short,  was  the  hero  of  a  ro 
mance,  whose  scenes  changed  as  airily  and  easily  as  the 
sunset  clouds  of  evening.  So  really  and  so  vividly  did 
this  supposititious  life  excite  me  that  I  have  actually  found 
myself  with  tears  in  my  eyes  through  the  pathos  of  these 
unsubstantial  visions. 

It  was  in  one  of  the  lulling  pauses  of  such  a  romance, 
while  I  yet  heard  the  voice  of  our  good  pastor  proving  that 
"selfishness  was  the  essence  of  moral  evil,"  that  I  lifted 
up  my  eyes,  and  became  for  the  first  time  conscious  of  a 
new  face,  in  the  third  pew  of  the  broad  aisle  below  me. 
It  was  a  new  one  —  one  that  certainly  had  never  been  there 
before,  and  was  altogether  just  the  face  to  enter  into  the 
most  ethereal  perceptions  of  my  visionary  life.  I  started 
with  a  sort  of  awakening  thrill,  such,  perhaps,  as  Adam 
had  when  he  woke  from  his  sleep  and  saw  his  Eve.  There, 
to  be  sure,  was  the  face  of  my  dream-wife,  incarnate  and 
visible!  That  face,  so  refined,  so  spiritual,  so  pure!  a 
baptized,  Christianized  Greek  face !  A  cross  between  Venus 
and  the  Virgin  Mary !  The  outlines  were  purely,  severely 
classical,  such  as  I  have  since  seen  in  the  Psyche  of  the 
Naples  Gallery;  but  the  large,  tremulous,  pathetic  eyes 
redeemed  them  from  statuesque  coldness.  They  were  eyes 
that  thought,  that  looked  deep  into  life,  death,  and  eternity 
—  so  I  said  to  myself  as  I  gazed  down  on  her,  and  held 
my  breath  with  a  kind  of  religious  awe.  The  vision  was 
all  in  white,  as  such  visions  must  be,  and  the  gauzy  crape 
bonnet  with  its  flowers  upon  her  head  dissolved  under  my 
eyes  into  a  sort  of  sacred  aureole,  such  as  surrounds  the 
heads  of  saints.  I  saw  her,  and  only  her,  through  the 
remaining  hour  of  church.  I  studied  every  movement. 
The  radiant  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  minister,  and  with 
an  expression  so  sadly  earnest  that  I  blushed  for  my  own 
wandering  thoughts,  and  began  to  endeavor  to  turn  my 


58  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

mind  to  the  truths  I  was  hearing  told;  but,  after  all,  I 
thought  more  about  her  than  the  discourse.  I  saw  her 
search  the  hymn-book  for  the  hymn,  and  wished  that  I 
were  down  there  to  find  it  for  her.  I  saw  her  standing 
up,  and  looking  down  at  her  hymns  with  the  wonderful 
eyes  veiled  by  long  lashes,  and  singing,  — 

"  Call  me  away  from  earth  and  sense, 
One  sovereign  word  can  draw  me  thence, 
I  would  obey  the  voice  divine, 
And  all  inferior  joys  resign." 

How  miserably  gross,  and  worldly,  and  unworthy  I  felt 
at  that  moment !  How  I  longed  for  an  ideal,  superhuman 
spirituality,  —  something  that  should  make  me  worthy  to 
touch  the  hem  of  her  garment ! 

When  the  blessing  was  pronounced,  I  hastened  down 
and  stood  where  I  might  see  her  as  she  passed  out  of 
church.  I  had  not  been  alone  in  my  discoveries:  there 
had  been  dozens  of  others  that  saw  the  same  star,  and  there 
were  whisperings,  and  elbowings,  and  consultings,  as  a 
knot  of  juniors  and  seniors  stationed  themselves,  as  I  had 
done,  to  see  her  pass  out. 

As  she  passed  by  she  raised  her  eyes  slowly,  and  as  it 
were  by  accident,  and  they  fell  like  a  ray  of  sunlight  on 
one  of  our  number,  —  Jim  Fellows  —  who  immediately 
bowed.  A  slight  pink  flush  rose  in  her  cheeks  as  she 
gracefully  returned  the  salutation,  and  passed  on.  Jim 
was  instantly  the  great  man  of  the  hour;  he  knew  her,  it 
seems. 

"It 's  Miss  Ellery,  of  Portland.  Haven't  you  heard  of 
her  1  "  he  said,  with  an  air  of  importance.  "  She  Js  the 
great  beauty  of  Portland.  They  call  her  the  '  little  divin 
ity. '  Met  her  last  summer,  at  Mount  Desert,"  he  added, 
with  the  comfortable  air  of  a  man  in  possession  of  the 
leading  fact  of  the  hour  —  the  fact  about  which  everybody 
else  is  inquiring. 


MY   DREAM-WIFE  59 

I  walked  home  behind  her  in  a  kind  of  trance,  disdain 
ing  to  join  in  what  I  thought  the  very  flippant  and  un 
worthy  comments  of  the  boys.  I  saw  the  last  wave  of  her 
white  garments  as  she  passed  between  the  two  evergreens 
in  front  of  Deacon  Brown's  square  white  house,  which  at 
that  moment  became  to  me  a  mysterious  and  glorified 
shrine;  there  the  angel  held  her  tabernacle. 

At  this  moment  I  met  Miss  Dotha  Brown,  the  deacon's 
eldest  daughter,  a  rosy-cheeked,  pleasant-faced  girl,  to 
whom  I  had  been  introduced  the  week  before.  Instantly 
she  was  clothed  upon  with  a  new  interest  in  my  eyes,  and 
I  saluted  her  with  empressement ;  if  not  the  rose,  she  at 
least  was  the  clay  that  was  imbibing  the  perfume  of  the 
rose;  and  I  don't  doubt  that  my  delight  at  seeing  her 
assumed  the  appearance  of  personal  admiration.  "What 
a  charming  Sunday,"  I  said,  with  emphasis.  "Perfectly 
charming,"  said  Miss  Brown  sympathetically. 

"You  have  an  interesting  young  friend  staying  with 
you,  I  observe,"  said  I. 

"Who,  Miss  Ellery  ?  oh  yes.  0  Mr.  Henderson,  she  is 
the  sweetest  girl !  "  said  Dotha,  with  effusion. 

I  didn't  doubt  it,  and  listened  eagerly  to  her  praises, 
and  was  grateful  to  Miss  Brown  for  the  warm  invitation  to 
"  call "  which  followed.  Miss  Ellery  was  to  make  them  a 
long  visit,  and  she  would  be  so  happy  to  introduce  me. 

That  evening  Miss  Ellery  was  a  topic  of  excited  discus 
sion  in  our  entry,  and  Jim  Fellows  plumed  himself  largely 
on  his  Mount  Desert  experiences,  which  he  related  in  a 
way  to  produce  the  impression  that  he  had  been  regarded 
with  a  favorable  eye  by  the  divinity.  I  was  in  a  state  of 
silent  indignation,  at  him,  at  all  the  rest  of  the  boys,  at 
everybody  in  general,  being  fully  persuaded  that  they  were 
utterly  incapable  of  understanding  or  appreciating  this  won 
derful  creature. 

"Hal,  why  don't  you  talk?"  said  one  of  them  to  me, 


60  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

when  I  had  sat  silent,  pretending  to  read  for  a  long  time. 
"What  do  you  think  of  her  ? " 

"Oh,  I'm  no  ladies'  man,  as  you  all  know,"  I  said 
evasively,  and  actually  pretended  not  to  have  remarked 
Miss  Ellery  except  in  a  cursory  manner. 

Then  followed  a  period  of  weeks  and  months,  when  that 
one  image  was  never  for  a  moment  out  of  my  thoughts. 
By  a  strange  law  of  our  being,  a  certain  idea  can  accom 
pany  us  everywhere,  not  stopping  or  interrupting  the 
course  of  the  thought,  but  going  on  in  a  sort  of  shadowy 
way  with  it,  as  an  invisible  presence. 

The  man  or  woman  who  cherishes  an  ideal  is  always 
liable  to  this  accident,  that  the  spiritual  image  often  de 
scends  like  a  mantle,  and  invests  some  very  ordinary  per 
son,  who  is,  for  the  time  being,  transfigured,  —  "a  woman 
clothed  with  the  sun,  and  with  the  moon  under  her  feet." 
It  is  not  what  there  is  in  the  person,  but  what  there  is  in 
us,  that  gives  this  passage  in  life  its  critical  power.  It 
would  seem  as  if  there  were  in  some  men,  and  some 
women,  preparation  for  a  grand  interior  illumination  and 
passion,  like  that  hoard  of  mystical  gums  and  spices  which 
the  phoenix  was  fabled  to  prepare  for  its  funeral  pile ;  all 
the  aspiration  and  poetry  and  romance,  the  upheaval  toward 
an  infinite  and  eternal  good,  a  divine  purity  and  rest,  may 
be  enkindled  by  the  touch  of  a  very  ordinary  and  earthly 
hand,  and,  burning  itself  out,  leave  only  cold  ashes  of 
experience. 

Miss  Ellery  was  a  well-bred  young  lady,  of  decorous  and 
proper  demeanor,  of  careful  religious  education,  of  no  par 
ticular  strength  either  of  mind  or  emotion,  good-tempered, 
and  with  an  instinctive  approbativeness  that  made  her 
desirous  to  please  everybody,  which  created  for  her  the 
reputation  that  Miss  Brown  expressed  in  calling  her  "a 
sweet  girl."  She  was  always  most  agreeable  to  those  with 
whom  she  was  thrown,  and  for  the  time  being  appeared  to 


MY   DREAM-WIFE  61 

be  and  was  sincerely  interested  in  them;  but  her  mind 
was  like  a  well-polished  looking-glass,  retaining  not  a  trace 
of  anything  absent  or  distant. 

She  was  gifted  by  nature  with  wonderful  beauty,  and 
beauty  of  that  peculiar  style  that  stirs  the  senses  of  the 
poetical  and  the  ideal;  her  gentle  approbativeness  and  the 
graceful  facility  of  her  manner  were  such  as  not  at  least 
to  destroy  the  visions  which  her  beauty  created.  In  a 
quiet  way  she  enjoyed  being  adored  —  made  love  to,  but 
she  never  overstepped  the  bounds  of  strict  propriety.  She 
received  me  with  graciousness,  and  I  really  think  found 
something  in  my  society  which  was  agreeably  stimulating 
to  her.  I  was  somewhat  out  of  the  common  track  of  her 
adorers ;  my  ardor  and  enthusiasm  gave  her  a  new  emotion. 
I  wrote  poems  to  her,  which  she  read  with  a  graceful  pen- 
siveness  and  laid  away  among  her  trophies  in  her  private 
writing-desk.  I  called  her  my  star,  my  inspiration,  my 
light,  and  she  beamed  down  on  me  with  a  pensive  purity. 
"Yes,  she  was  delighted  to  have  me  read  Tennyson  to 
her, "  and  many  an  hour  when  I  should  have  been  study 
ing,  I  was  lounging  in  the  little  front  parlor  of  the  Brown 
house,  fancying  myself  Sir  Galahad,  and  reading  with  emo 
tion,  how  his  "blade  was  strong,  because  his  heart  was 
pure;"  and  Miss  Ellery  murmured  "How  lovely!"  and 
I  was  in  paradise. 

And  then  there  came  wonderful  moonlight  evenings  — 
evenings  when  every  leaf  stirring  had  a  penciled  reproduc 
tion  nickering  in  light  and  shade  on  the  turf;  and  we 
walked  together  under  arches  of  elm-trees,  and  I  talked 
and  quoted  poetry;  and  she  listened  and  assented  in  the 
sweetest  manner  possible.  All  my  hopes,  my  plans,  my 
dreams,  my  speculations,  my  philosophies,  came  out  to  sun 
themselves  under  the  magic  of  those  lustrous  eyes.  Her 
replies  and  utterances  were  greatly  in  disproportion  to 
mine;  but  I  received  them,  and  made  much  of  them,  as  of 


62  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

old  the  priests  of  Delphi  did  with  those  of  the  inspired 
maiden.  There  must  be  deep  meaning  in  it  all,  because 
she  was  a  priestess;  and  I  was  not  backward  to  supply  it. 

I  have  often  endeavored  to  analyze  the  sources  of  the 
illusion  cast  over  men  by  such  characters  as  that  of  Miss 
Ellery.  In  their  case  the  instinctive  action  of  approbative- 
ness  assumes  the  semblance  of  human  sympathy,  and  brings 
them  for  the  time  being  into  the  life-sphere,  and  under 
the  influence,  of  any  person  whom  they  wish  to  please,  so 
that  they  with  a  temporary  sincerity  reflect  back  the  ideas 
and  feelings  of  others.  There  is  just  the  same  illusive 
sort  of  charm  in  this  reflection  of  our  own  thoughts  and 
emotions  from  another  mind,  as  there  is  in  the  reflection 
of  objects  in  a  placid  lake.  There  is  no  warmth  and  no 
reality  to  it;  and  yet,  for  the  time  being,  it  is  often  the 
most  entrancing  thing  in  the  world,  and  gives  back  to  you 
the  glow  of  your  own  heart,  the  fervor  of  your  imagination, 
and  even  every  little  flower  of  fancy,  and  twig  of  feeling, 
with  a  wonderful  faithfulness  of  reproduction.  It  is  not 
real  sympathy,  because,  like  the  image  in  the  lake,  it  is 
only  there  when  you  are  present;  and  when  you  are  away, 
reflects  with  equal  facility  the  next  comer. 

But  men  always  have  been,  and  to  the  end  of  time  al 
ways  will  be,  fascinated  by  such  women,  and  will  suppose 
this  mere  reflecting  power  of  a  highly  polished  surface  to 
be  the  sympathetic  response  for  which  the  heart  longs.  So 
I  had  no  doubt  that  Miss  Ellery  was  a  woman  of  all  sorts 
of  high  literary  tastes  and  moral  heroisms,  for  there  was 
nothing  so  high  or  so  deep  in  the  aspirations  of  poets  or 
sages  in  my  readings  to  her  that  could  not  be  reflected  and 
glorified  in  those  wonderful  eyes. 

Neither  are  such  women  hypocrites,  as  they  are  often 
called.  What  they  give  back  to  you  is  for  the  time  being 
a  sincere  reflection,  and  if  there  is  no  depth  to  it,  if  it 
passes  away  with  the  passing  hour,  it  is  simply  because 


MY  DREAM-WIFE  63 

their  natures  —  smooth,  shallow,  and  cold  —  have  no  deeper 
power  of  retention.  The  fault  lies  in  expecting  more  of  a 
thing  than  there  is  in  its  nature  —  a  fault  wre  shall  more  or 
less  all  go  on  committing  till  the  great  curtain  falls. 

I  wrote  all  about  her  to  my  mother,  and  received  the 
usual  cautionary  maternal  epistle:  reminding  me  that  I  was 
yet  far  from  that  goal  in  life  when  I  was  warranted  in 
asking  any  woman  to  be  my  wife,  and  suggesting  that  my 
taste  might  alter  with  maturity;  warning  me  against  pre 
mature  commitments  —  in  short,  saying  all  that  good,  anx 
ious  mothers  usually  say  to  young  juniors  in  college  in 
similar  circumstances. 

In  reply,  I  told  my  mother  that  I  had  found  a  woman 
worthy  the  devotion  of  a  life  —  a  woman  who  would  be 
inspiration  and  motive  and  reward.  I  extolled  her  purity 
and  saintliness.  I  told  my  mother  that  she  was  forming 
and  leading  me  to  all  that  was  holy  and  noble.  In  short, 
I  meant  to  win  her  though  the  seven  labors  of  Hercules 
were  to  be  performed  seven  times  over  to  reach  her. 

Now  the  fact  is,  my  mother  might  have  saved  herself 
her  anxiety.  Miss  Ellery  was  perfectly  willing  to  be  my 
guiding  star,  my  inspiration,  my  light,  within  reasonable 
limits,  while  making  a  visit  in  an  otherwise  rather  dull 
town.  She  liked  to  be  read  to;  she  liked  the  conscious 
ness  of  being  incessantly  admired,  and  would  have  made  a 
very  good  image  for  some  Church  of  the  Perpetual  Adora 
tion  ;  but  after  all,  Miss  Ellery  was  as  incapable  of  forming 
an  ineligible  engagement  of  marriage  with  a  poor  college 
student  as  the  most  sensible  and  collected  of  Walter  Scott's 
heroines. 

Looking  back  upon  this  part  of  my  life,  I  can  pity  my 
self  with  as  quiet  and  dispassionate  a  perception  as  if  I 
were  a  third  person.  The  illusion,  for  the  time  being, 
was  so  real,  the  feelings  called  up  by  it  so  honest  and  ear 
nest  and  sacred;  and  supposing  there  had  been  a  tangible 


64  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

reality  to  it  —  what  might  not  such  a  woman  have  made  of 
me,  or  of  any  man? 

And  suppose  it  pleased  God  to  send  forth  an  army  of 
such  women,  as  I  thought  her  to  be,  among  the  lost  chil 
dren  of  men,  women  armed  not  only  with  the  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  beauty,  but  with  that  inward  and  spiritual 
grace  which  beauty  typifies,  one  might  believe  that  the 
golden  age  would  soon  be  back  upon  us. 

Miss  Ellery  adroitly  avoided  all  occasions  of  any  critical 
commitment  on  my  part  or  on  hers.  Women  soon  learn 
a  vast  amount  of  tact  and  diplomacy  on  that  subject;  but 
she  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  was  peculiarly  congenial 
to  her,  and  encouraged  the  outflow  of  all  my  romance 
with  the  gentlest  atmosphere  of  indulgence.  To  be  sure,  I 
was  not  the  only  one  whom  she  thus  held  with  bonds  of 
golden  gossamer.  She  reigned  a  queen,  and  had  a  court 
at  her  feet,  and  the  deacon's  square,  white,  prosaic  house 
bristled  with  the  activity  and  vivacity  of  Miss  Ellery 's 
adorers. 

Among  them  Will  Marshall  was  especially  distinguished. 
Will  was  a  senior,  immensely  rich,  good-natured  as  the 
longest  summer  day  is  long,  but  so  idle  and  utterly  incapa 
ble  of  culture  that  only  the  liberality  of  the  extra  sum  paid 
to  a  professor  who  held  him  in  guardianship  secured  his 
stay  in  college  classes.  It  has  been  my  observation  that 
money  will  secure  a  great  variety  of  things  in  this  lower 
world,  and,  among  others,  will  carry  a  very  stupid  fellow 
through  college. 

Will  was  a  sort  of  favorite  with  us  all.  His  good 
nature  was  without  limit,  and  he  scattered  his  money  with 
a  free  hand,  and  so  we  generally  spoke  of  him  as  "Poor 
Will;"  a  nice  fellow,  if  he  couldn't  write  a  decent  note, 
and  blundered  through  all  his  recitations.  Will  laid  him 
self,  so  to  speak,  at  Miss  Ellery 's  feet.  He  was  flush  of 
bouquets  and  confectionery.  He  caused  the  village  livery 


MY   DREAM-WIFE  65 

stable  to  import  forthwith  a  turnout  worthy  to  be  a  car  of 
Venus  herself. 

I  saw  all  this,  but  it  never  entered  my  head  that  Miss 
Ellery  would  cast  a  moment's  thought  other  than  those  of 
the  gentlest  womanly  compassion  on  poor  Will  Marshall. 

The  time  of  the  summer  vacation  drew  nigh,  and  with 
the  close  of  the  term  closed  the.  vision  of  my  idyllic  expe 
riences  with  Miss  Ellery.  To  the  last  she  was  so  gentle 
and  easy  to  be  entreated.  Her  lovely  eyes  cast  on  me  such 
bright  encouraging  glances ;  and  she  accorded  me  a  farewell 
moonlight  ramble,  wherein  I  walked  not  on  earth,  but 
in  the  seventh  heaven  of  felicity.  Of  course  there  was 
nothing  definite.  I  told  her  that  I  was  a  poor  soldier  of 
fortune,  but  might  I  only  wear  her  name  in  my  bosom,  it 
would  be  a  sacred  talisman,  and  give  strength  to  my  arm, 
and  she  sighed,  and  looked  lovely,  and  she  did  not  say  me 
nay. 

I  went  home  to  my  mother,  and  wearied  that  much- 
enduring  woman,  all  through  the  vacation,  with  the  hot 
and  cold  fits  of  my  fever.  Blessed  souls!  these  mothers, 
who  bear  and  watch  and  rear  the  restless  creatures,  who  by 
and  by  come  to  them  with  the  very  heart  gone  out  of  them 
for  love  of  another  woman  —  some  idle  girl,  perhaps,  that 
never  knew  what  it  was  either  to  love  or  care,  and  that 
plays  with  hearts  as  kittens  do  with  pinballs ! 

I  wrote  to  Miss  Ellery  letters  long,  overflowing,  and  got 
back  little  neatly  worded  notes  on  scented  paper,  speaking 
in  a  general  way  of  the  charms  of  friendship.  But  the  first 
news  that  met  me  on  my  return  to  college  broke  my  soap- 
bubble  at  one  touch. 

"  Hurrah !  Hal  —  who  do  you  guess  is  engaged  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"Guess." 

"I  couldn't  guess." 

"Why,  Miss  Ellery  —  engaged  to  Bill  Marshall." 


66  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

Alnaschar,  in  the  Arabian  tale,  could  not  have  been 
more  astonished  when  his  basket  of  glassware  fell  in  glit 
tering  nothingness.  I  stood  stupid  with  astonishment. 

" She  engaged  to  Will  Marshall!  —  why,  boys,  he 's  a 
fool!" 

"But  you  see  he's  rich.  Oh,  it's  all  arranged;  they 
are  to  be  married  next  month,  and  go  to  Europe  for  their 
wedding  tour,"  said  Jim  Fellows. 

And  so  my  idol  fell  from  its  pedestal  —  and  my  first 
dream  dissolved. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    VALLEY    OF    HUMILIATION 

Miss  ELLERY  was  sufficiently  mistress  of  herself,  and 
of  circumstances,  to  close  our  little  pastoral  in  the  most 
graceful  and  amiable  manner  possible.  I  received  a  beau 
tiful  rose-scented  note  from  her,  saying  that  the  very  kind 
interest  in  her  happiness  which  I  always  had  expressed, 
and  the  extremely  pleasant  friendship  which  had  arisen 
between  us,  made  her  desirous  of  informing  me,  etc.,  etc. 
Thereupon  followed  the  announcement  of  her  engagement, 
terminating  with  the  assurance  that  whatever  new  ties  she 
might  form,  or  scenes  she  might  visit,  she  should  ever 
cherish  a  pleasant  remembrance  of  the  delightful  hours 
spent  beneath  the  elms  of  X,  and  indulge  the  kindest 
wishes  for  my  future  success  and  happiness. 

I,  of  course,  crushed  the  rose-scented  missive  in  my 
hand,  in  the  most  approved  tragical  style,  and  felt  that  I 
had  been  deceived,  betrayed,  and  undone.  I  passed  forth 
with  into  that  cynical  state  of  young  manhood,  in  which 
one  learns  for  the  first  time  what  a  mere  unimportant  drop 
his  own  most  terribly  earnest  and  excited  feelings  may  be 
in  the  tumbling  ocean  of  the  existing  world.  This  is  a 
Valley  of  Humiliation,  which  lies,  in  very  many  cases,  just 
a  day's  walk  beyond  the  Palace  Beautiful  with  all  its  fasci 
nations. 

The  moral  geographer,  John  Bunyan,  to  whom  we  are 
indebted  for  much  wholesome  information,  tells  us  that 
while  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  descend  gracefully  into 
this  valley,  and  pilgrims  generally  accomplish  it  at  the 


68  MY    WIFE   AND   I 

expense  of  many  a  sore  trip  and  stumble,  yet  when  once 
they  are  fairly  down,  it  presents  many  advantages  of  climate 
and  soil  not  otherwhere  found. 

The. shivering  to  pieces  of  the  first  ideal,  while  it  breaks 
ruthlessly  and  scatters  much  that  is  really  and  honestly 
good  and  worthy,  breaks  up  no  less  a  certain  stock  of  un 
conscious  self-conceit,  which  young  people  are  none  the 
worse  for  having  lessened.  The  very  assumption,  so  com 
mon  in  the  early  days  of  life,  that  we  have  feelings  of  a 
peculiar  sacredness  above  the  comprehension  of  the  com 
mon  herd,  and  for  which  only  the  selectest  sympathy  is 
possible,  is  one  savoring  a  little  too  much  of  the  unregen- 
erate  natural  man,  to  be  safely  let  alone  to  grow  and  thrive. 

Natures,  in  particular,  whose  ideality  is  largely  in  the 
ascendant,  are  apt  to  begin  life  with  the  scheme  of  building 
a  high  and  thick  stone  wall  of  reticence  around  themselves, 
and  enthroning  therein  an  idol,  whose  rites  and  service  are 
to  be  performed  with  a  contemptuous  indifference  to  all 
the  rest  of  mankind. 

When  this  idol  is  suddenly  disenchanted  by  some  stroke 
of  inevitable  reality,  and  we  discern  that  the  image  which 
we  had  supposed  to  be  the  shrine  of  a  divinity  is  only  a 
very  earthly  doll,  stuffed  with  sawdust,  one's  pinnacles 
and  battlements  —  the  whole  temple  in  short,  that  we  have 
prided  ourselves  on,  comes  tumbling  down  about  us  like 
the  walls  of  Jericho,  not  without  a  certain  sense  of  the 
ridiculous.  Though,  like  other  afflictions,  this  is  not  for 
the  present  joyous,  still  the  space  thus  cleared  in  our  mind 
may  be  so  cultivated  as  afterwards  to  bring  forth  peaceable 
fruits  of  righteousness. 

In  my  case,  my  idol  was  utterly  defaced  and  destroyed 
in  my  eyes,  because  I  could  not  conceal  from  myself  that 
she  was  making  a  marriage  wholly  without  the  one  element 
that  above  all  others  marriage  requires.  Miss  Ellery  was 
perfectly  well  aware  of  the  mental  inferiority  of  poor  Bill 


THE   VALLEY   OF   HUMILIATION  69 

Marshall,  and  had  listened  unreprovingly  to  the  half -con 
temptuous  pity  with  which  it  was  customary  among  us  to 
speak  of  him.  I  remembered  how  patronizingly  I  had 
often  talked  of  him  to  her,  "Keally  not  a  bad  fellow  — 
only  a  little  weak,  you  see  ;  "  and  the  pretty,  graceful  droll 
ery  in  her  eyes.  I  remembered  things  that  these  same 
eyes  had  looked  at  me  when  he  blundered  and  miscalled 
words  in  conversation,  and  a  thousand  sayings  and  intima 
tions,  each  by  itself  indefinite  as  the  boundary  between  two 
tints  of  the  rainbow,  by  which  she  showed  a  superior  sense 
of  pleasure  in  my  conversation  and  society. 

And  was  all  this  acting  and  insincerity  1  I  thought  not. 
I  was  and  am  fully  convinced  that  had  I  only  been  pos 
sessed  of  the  wealth  of  Bill  Marshall,  Miss  Ellery  would 
infinitely  have  preferred  me  as  a  life  companion;  and  it 
was  no  very  serious  amount  of  youthful  vanity  to  imagine 
that  I  should  have  proved  a  more  entertaining  one.  I  can 
easily  imagine  that  she  made  the  decision  with  some  gentle 
regret  at  first,  —  regret  dried  up  like  morning  dew  in  the 
full  sunlight  of  wedding  diamonds,  and  capable  of  being 
put  completely  to  sleep  upon  a  couch  of  cashmere  shawls. 

With  what  indignant  bitterness  did  I  listen  to  all  the 
details  of  the  impending  wedding  from  fluent  Jim  Fellows, 
who,  being  from  Portland  and  well  posted  in  all  the  gossip 
of  the  circle  in  which  she  moved,  enlightened  our  entry 
with  daily  and  weekly  bulletins  of  the  grandeur  and  splen 
dors  that  were  being,  and  to  be. 

"  Boys,  only  think !  Her  wedding  present  from  him  is 
a  set  of  diamonds  valued  at  twenty-five  thousand  dollars. 
Bob  Rivers  saw  them  on  exhibition  at  Tiffany's.  Then 
she  has  three  of  the  most  splendid  cashmere  shawls  that 
ever  were  imported  into  Maine.  Captain  Sautelle  got  them 
from  an  Indian  Prince,  and  there  's  no  saying  what  they 
would  have  cost  at  usual  rates.  I  tell  you,  Bill  is  going  it 
in  style,  and  they  are  going  to  be  married  with  drums  and 


70  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

trumpets,  cymbals  and  dances;  such  a  wedding  as  will 
make  old  Portland  stare;  and  then  off  they  are  going  to 
travel  no  end  of  time  in  Europe,  and  see  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world,  and  the  glory  of  them." 

Now,  I  suppose  none  of  us  doubted  that  could  Miss 
Ellery  have  attained  the  diamonds  and  the  cashmeres  and 
the  fortune,  with  all  its  possibilities  of  luxury  and  self- 
indulgence,  without  the  addition  of  the  husband,  nothing 
would  have  been  wanting  to  complete  her  good  fortune; 
but  it  is  a  condition  in  the  way  of  a  woman's  making  a 
fortune  by  marriage,  as  it  was  with  Faust's  compact  with 
an  unmentionable  party,  that  it  can  only  be  ratified  by  the 
sacrifice  of  herself  —  herself,  and  for  life!  A  sacrifice 
most  awful  and  holy  when  made  in  pure  love,  and  most 
fearful  when  made  for  any  other  consideration.  The  fact 
that  Miss  Ellery  could  make  it  was  immediate  and  com 
plete  disenchantment  to  me. 

Mine  is  not,  I  suppose,  the  only  case  where  the  ideal 
which  has  been  formed  under  the  brooding  influence  of  a 
noble  mother  is  shattered  by  the  hand  of  woman.  Some 
woman,  armed  with  the  sacramental  power  of  beauty,  en 
kindles  the  highest  manliness  of  the  youth,  and  is,  in  his 
eyes,  the  incarnate  form  of  purity  and  unworldly  virtue,  the 
high  prize  and  incitement  to  valor,  patience,  constancy,  and 
courage  in  the  great  life- battle. 

But  she  sells  herself  before  his  eyes,  for  diamonds  and 
laces,  and  trinkets  and  perfumes;  for  the  liberty  of  walk 
ing  on  soft  carpets  and  singing  in  gilded  cages ;  and  all  the 
world  laughs  at  his  simplicity  in  supposing  that,  a  fair 
chance  given,  any  woman  would  ever  do  otherwise.  Is 
not  beauty  woman's  capital  in  trade,  the  price  put  into  her 
hand  to  get  whatever  she  needs ;  and  are  not  the  most  beau 
tiful,  as  a  matter  of  course,  destined  prizes  of  the  richest  1 

Miss  Ellery 's  marriage  was  to  me  a  great  awakening,  a 
coming  out  of  a  life  of  pure  ideas  and  sentiment  into  one  of 


THE   VALLEY   OF   HUMILIATION  71 

external  realities.  Hitherto,  I  had  lived  only  with  people 
all  whose  measures  and  valuations  had  been  those  relating 
to  the  character  —  the  intellect  and  the  heart.  Never 
in  my  father's  house  had  I  heard  the  gaining  of  money 
spoken  of  as  success  in  life,  except  as  far  as  money  was 
needed  to  advance  education,  and  education  was  a  means 
for  doing  good.  My  father  had  his  zeal,  his  earnestness, 
his  exaltations,  but  they  all  related  to  things  to  be  done 
in  his  life-work:  the  saving  of  souls,  the  conversion  of 
sinners,  the  gathering  of  churches,  the  repression  of  intem 
perance  and  immorality,  the  advancement  of  education. 
My  elder  brothers  had  successfully  entered  the  ministry 
under  his  influence,  and  in  counsels  with  them  where  to 
settle  I  had  never  heard  the  question  of  salary  or  worldly 
support  even  discussed.  The  first,  the  only  question  I 
ever  heard  considered,  was  What  work  was  needed  to  be 
done,  and  what  fitness  for  the  doing  of  it;  taking  for 
granted  the  record,  that  where  the  Kingdom  of  God  and 
its  righteousness  were  first  sought,  all  things  would  be 
added.  Thus  all  my  visions  of  future  life  had  in  them 
something  of  the  innocent  verdancy  of  the  golden  age, 
when  noble  men  strove  for  the  favor  of  fair  women,  by 
pureness,  by  knowledge,  by  heroism,  —  and  the  bravest 
won  the  crown  from  the  hand  of  the  most  beautiful. 

And  suddenly  to  my  awakened  eyes  the  whole  rushing 
cavalcade  of  fashionable  life  swept  by,  bearing  my  princess, 
amid  waving  feathers  and  flashing  jewels  and  dazzling  robes 
and  merry  laughs  and  jests,  leaving  me  by  the  wayside 
dazed  and  covered  with  dust,  to  plod  on  alone.  Now  first 
I  felt  the  shame  which  comes  over  a  young  man,  that  he 
has  not  known  the  world  as  old  worldlings  know  it. 

In  the  discussions  among  the  boys,  relating  to  this  mar 
riage,  I  first  learned  the  power  of  that  temptation  which 
comes  upon  every  young  man  to  look  on  wealth  as  the  first 
object  in  a  life-race. 


72  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Woman  is  by  order  of  nature  the  conservator  of  the 
ideal.  Formed  of  finer  clay,  with  nicer  perceptions,  and 
refined  fibre,  she  is  the  appointed  priestess  to  guard  the 
poetry  of  life  from  sacrilege ;  but  if  she  be  bribed  to  betray 
the  shrine,  what  hope  for  us  ?  "If  the  salt  have  lost  its 
savor,  wherewith  shall  it  be  salted  ? " 

My  acquaintance  with  Miss  Ellery  had  brought  me  out 
of  my  scholastic  retirement,  and  made  me  an  acquaintance 
of  the  whole  bevy  of  the  girls  of  X.  Miss  Ellery  had  been 
invited  and  feted  in  all  the  families,  and  her  special  train 
of  adorers  had  followed  her,  and  thus  I  was  au  courant 
of  all  the  existing  girl-world  of  our  little  town.  It  was 
curious  to  remark  what  a  silken  nutter  of  wings,  what  an 
endless  volubility  of  tongues  there  was,  about  this  engage 
ment  and  marriage,  and  how,  on  the  whole,  it  was  treated 
as  the  height  of  splendor  and  good  fortune.  My  rosy-faced 
friend,  Miss  Dotha,  was  invited  to  the  festival  as  brides 
maid,  and  returned  thereafter  "  trailing  clouds  of  glory " 
into  the  primitive  circles  of  X;  and  my  cynical  bitterness 
of  soul  took  a  sort  of  perverse  pleasure  in  the  amplifications 
and  discussions  that  I  constantly  heard  in  the  tea- drinking 
circles  of  the  town. 

"Oh,  girls,  you've  no  idea  about  those  diamonds,"  said 
Miss  Dotha;  "great  big  diamonds  as  large  as  peas,  and  just 
as  clear  as  water!  Bill  Marshall  made  them  send  orders 
to  Europe  specially  for  the  purpose;  then  she  had  a  pearl 
set  that  his  mother  gave,  and  his  sister  gave  an  amethyst 
set  for  a  breakfast  suit !  and  you  ought  to  have  seen  the 
presents !  It  was  a  perfect  bazaar !  The  Marshalls  are  an 
enormously  rich  family,  and  they  all  came  down  splendidly ; 
old  Uncle  Tom  Marshall  gave  a  solid  silver  dining  set  em 
bossed  with  gold,  and  old  Aunt  Tabitha  Marshall  gave  a 
real  Sevres  china  tea-set,  that  was  taken  out  of  one  of  the 
royal  palaces  in  Erance  at  the  time  of  the  Erench  Revolu 
tion.  Captain  Atkins  was  in  Erance  about  the  time  they 


THE   VALLEY   OF   HUMILIATION  73 

were  sacking  palaces,  and  doing  all  such  things,  and  he 
brought  away  quite  a  number  of  things  that  found  their 
way  into  some  of  these  rich  old  Portland  families.  Her 
wedding  veil  was  given  by  old  Grandmamma  Marshall, 
and  was  said  to  have  been  one  that  belonged  to  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette,  taken  by  some  of  those  horrid  women 
when  they  sacked  the  Tuileries,  and  sold  to  Captain  At 
kins;  at  any  rate,  it  was  the  most  wonderful  point  lace, 
just  like  an  old  picture." 

Fancy  the  drawing  of  breaths,  the  exclamations,  the 
groans  of  delight,  from  a  knot  of  pretty,  well-dressed,  nice 
country  girls,  at  these  wonderful  glimpses  into  paradise. 

"After  all,"  I  said,  "I  think  this  custom  of  loading  down 
a  woman  with  finery  just  at  her  marriage  hour  is  giving  it 
when  she  is  least  able  to  appreciate  it.  Why  distract  her 
with  gewgaws  at  the  very  moment  when  her  heart  must 
be  so  full  of  a  new  affection  that  she  cares  for  nothing  else  1 
Miss  Ellery  is  probably  so  lost  in  her  love  for  Mr.  Mar 
shall  that  she  scarcely  gives  a  thought  to  these  things,  and 
really  forgets  that  she  has  them.  It  would  be  much  more 
in  point  to  give  them  to  some  girl  that  hasn't  a  lover." 

I  spoke  with  a  simple,  serious  air,  as  if  I  had  most  per 
fect  faith  in  my  words,  and  a  general  gentle  smile  of  amuse 
ment  went  round  the  circle,  rippling  into  a  laugh  outright 
on  the  faces  of  some  of  the  gayer  girls.  Miss  Dotha  said: 

"Oh,  come,  now,  Mr.  Henderson,  you  are  too  severe." 

"Severe! "  said  I;  "I  can't  understand  what  you  mean, 
Miss  Dotha.  You  don't  mean,  of  course,  to  intimate  that 
Miss  Ellery  is  not  in  love  with  the  man  she  has  married  ? " 

"Oh,  now!"  said  Miss  Dotha,  laughing,  "you  know 
perfectly,  Mr.  Henderson  —  we  all  know  —  it's  pretty 
well  understood,  that  this  wasn't  exactly  what  you  call  a 
love-match;  in  fact,  I  know,"  she  added,  with  the  assurance 
of  a  confidante,  "  that  she  had  great  difficulty  in  making  up 
her  mind;  but  her  family  were  very  anxious  for  the 


74  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

match,  and  his  family  thought  it  would  be  such  a  good 
thing  for  him  to  marry  and  settle  down,  you  know,  so  one 
way  and  another  she  concluded  to  take  him." 

"And,  after  all,  Will  Marshall  is  a  good-natured  crea 
ture,"  said  Miss  Smith. 

"And  going  to  Europe  is  such  a  temptation,"  said  Miss 
Brown. 

"And  she  must  marry  some  time,"  said  Miss  Jones, 
"and  one  can't  have  everything,  you  know.  Will  is  cer 
tain  to  be  kind  to  her,  and  let  her  have  her  own  way." 

"For  my  part,"  said  pretty  Miss  Green,  "I'm  free  to 
say  that  I  don't  blame  any  girl  that  has  a  chance  to  get 
such  a  fortune,  for  doing  it,  as  Miss  Ellery  has.  I  've  al 
ways  been  poor,  and  pinched,  and  plagued;  never  can  go 
anywhere,  or  see  anything,  or  dress  as  I  want  to;  and  if 
I  had  a  chance,  such  as  Miss  Ellery  had,  I  think  I  should 
be  a  fool  not  to  take  it." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Black  reflectively,  "the  only  ques 
tion  is,  couldn't  Miss  Ellery  have  waited  and  found  a  man 
who  had  more  intellect,  and  more  culture,  whom  she  could 
respect  and  love,  and  who  had  money,  too  1  She  had  such 
extraordinary  beauty  and  such  popular  manners,  I  should 
have  thought  she  might." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Miss  Dotha,  "she  was  getting  on  — 
she  was  three-and-twenty  already  —  and  nobody  of  just  the 
right  sort  had  turned  up  —  'a  bird  in  the  hand  '  —  you 
know.  After  all,  I  dare  say  she  can  love  Will  Marshall 
well  enough." 

Well  enough  !  The  cool  philosophic  tone  of  this  phrase 
smote  on  my  ear  curiously. 

"And  pray,  fair  ladies,  how  much  is  'well  enough'?" 
said  I. 

"Well  enough  to  keep  the  peace,"  said  Miss  Green, 
"and  each  let  the  other  alone,  to  go  their  own  ways  and 
have  no  fighting." 


THE   VALLEY   OF   HUMILIATION  75 

Miss  Green  was  a  pretty,  spicy  little  body,  with  a  pair 
of  provoking  hazel  eyes;  who  talked  like  an  unprincipled 
little  pirate,  though  she  generally  acted  like  a  nice  woman. 
In  less  than  a  year  after,  by  the  bye,  she  married  a  home 
missionary,  in  Maine,  and  has  been  a  devoted  wife  and 
mother  in  a  little  parish  somewhere  in  the  region  of  Skow- 
hegan  ever  since. 

But  I  returned  to  my  room  gloriously  misanthropic,  and 
for  some  time  my  thoughts,  like  bees,  were  busy  gathering 
bitter  honey.  I  gave  up  visiting  in  the  tea-drinking  circles 
of  X.  I  got  myself  a  dark  sombrero  hat,  which  I  slouched 
down  over  my  eyes  in  bandit  style  when  I  walked  the 
street  and  met  with  any  of  my  former  gentle  acquaintances. 
I  wrote  my  mother  most  sublime  and  awful  letters  on  the 
inconceivable  vanity  and  nothingness  of  human  life.  I 
read  Plato  and  ^Eschylus,  and  Emerson's  Essays,  and  began 
to  think  myself  an  old  Philosopher  risen  from  the  dead. 
There  was  a  melancholy  gravity  about  all  my  college  exer 
cises,  and  I  began  to  look  down  on  young  freshmen  and 
sophomores  with  a  serene  compassion,  as  a  sage  who  has 
passed  through  the  vale  of  years  and  learned  that  all  is 
vanity. 

The  Valley  of  Humiliation  may  have  its  charms  —  it  is 
said  that  there  are  many  flowers  that  grow  there,  and  no 
where  else,  but  for  all  that,  a  young  fellow,  so  far  as  I 
know,  generally  walks  through  the  first  part  of  it  in  rather 
a  surly  and  unamiable  state.  To  be  sure,  had  I  been  wise, 
I  should  have  been  ready  to  return  thanks  on  my  knees 
for  my  disappointment.  True,  the  doll  was  stuffed  with 
sawdust,  but  it  was  not  my  doll.  I  had  not  learned  the 
cheat  when  it  was  forever  too  late  to  help  myself,  and  was 
not  condemned  to  spend  life  in  vain  attempts  to  make  a 
warm,  living  friend  of  a  cold  marble  statue.  Many  a  man 
has  succeeded  in  getting  his  first  ideal,  and  been  a  miser 
able  man  always  thereafter  and  therefor. 


76  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

I  have  lived  to  hear  very  tranquilly  of  Mrs.  Will  Mar 
shall's  soii'des  and  parties,  as  she  reigns  in  the  aristocratic 
circles  of  New  York;  and  to  see  her,  still  like  a  polished 
looking-glass,  gracefully  reflecting  every  one's  whims  and 
tastes  and  opinions  with  charming  suavity,  and  forgetting 
them  when  their  backs  are  turned;  and  to  think  that  she 
is  the  right  thing  in  the  right  place  —  a  crowned  Queen  of 
Vanity  Fair.  I  have  become,  too,  very  tolerant  and  indul 
gent  to  the  women  who  do  as  she  did,  —  use  their  own 
charms  as  the  coin  wherewith  to  buy  the  riches  and  honors 
of  the  world. 

The  world  has  been  busy  for  some  centuries  in  shutting 
and  locking  every  door  through  which  a  woman  could  step 
into  wealth,  except  the  door  of  marriage.  All  vigor  and 
energy,  such  as  men  put  forth  to  get  this  golden  key  of 
life,  is  condemned  and  scouted  as  unfeminine;  arid  a 
woman  belonging  to  the  upper  classes,  who  undertakes  to 
get  wealth  by  honest  exertion  and  independent  industry, 
loses  caste,  and  is  condemned  by  a  thousand  voices  as  an 
oddity  and  a  deranged  person.  A  woman  gifted  with 
beauty,  who  sells  it  to  buy  wealth,  is  far  more  leniently 
handled.  That  way  of  getting  money  is  not  called  un 
womanly;  and  so  long  as  the  whole  force  of  the  world  goes 
that  way,  such  marriages  as  Miss  Ellery's  and  Bill  Mar 
shall's  will  be  considered  en  regie. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    BLUE    MISTS 

MY  college  course  was  at  last  finished  satisfactorily  to 
my  mother  and  friends.  What  joy  there  is  to  be  got  in 
college  honors  was  mine.  I  studied  faithfully  and  gradu 
ated  with  the  valedictory.  Nevertheless  I  came  back  home 
again  a  sadder  if  not  a  wiser  man  than  I  went.  In  fact,  a 
tendency  to  fits  of  despondency  and  dejection  had  been 
growing  upon  me  in  these  last  two  years  of  my  college  life. 

With  all  the  self-confidence  and  conceit  that  is  usually 
attributed  to  young  men,  and  of  which  they  have  their 
share  undoubtedly,  they  still  have  their  times  of  walking 
through  troubled  waters,  and  sinking  in  deep  mire  where 
there  is  no  standing. 

During  my  last  year,  the  question  "  What  are  you  good 
for  ? "  had  often  borne  down  like  a  nightmare  upon  me. 
When  I  entered  college  all  was  distant,  golden,  indefinite, 
and  I  was  sure  that  I  was  good  for  almost  anything  that 
could  be  named.  Nothing  that  ever  had  been  attained  by 
man  looked  to  me  impossible.  Riches,  honor,  fame,  any 
thing  that  any  other  man  unassisted  had  wrought  out  for 
himself  with  his  own  right  arm,  I  could  work  out  also. 

But  as  I  measured  myself  with  real  tasks,  and  as  I 
rubbed  and  grated  against  other  minds  and  whirled  round 
and  round  in  the  various  experiences  of  college  life,  I  grew 
smaller  and  smaller  in  my  own  esteem,  and  oftener  and 
oftener  in  my  lonely  hours  it  seemed  as  if  some  evil  genius 
delighted  to  lord  it  over  me,  and  sitting  at  my  bedside  or 
fireside  to  say,  "What  are  you  good  for,  to  what  purpose 


78  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

all  the  pains  and  money  that  have  been  thrown  away  on 
you?  You  '11  never  be  anything;  you  '11  only  mortify  your 
poor  mother  that  has  set  her  heart  on  you,  and  make  your 
Uncle  Jacob  ashamed  of  you."  Can  any  anguish  equal 
the  depths  of  those  blues  in  which  a  man's  whole  self 
hangs  in  suspense  before  his  own  eyes,  and  he  doubts 
whether  he  himself,  with  his  entire  outfit  and  apparatus, 
body,  soul,  arid  spirit,  is  n't  to  be,  after  all,  a  complete 
failure  1  Better,  he  thinks,  never  to  have  been  born,  than 
to  be  born  to  no  purpose.  Then  first  he  wrestles  with  the 
question,  What  is  life  for,  and  what  am  I  to  do  or  seek  in 
it?  It  seems  to  be  not  without  purpose,  that  the  active 
life-work  of  the  great  representative  Man  of  Men  was  ush 
ered  in  by  a  forty  days'  dreary  wandering  in  the  wilderness 
hungry,  faint,  and  tempted  of  the  Devil;  for  certainly, 
after  education  has  pretty  thoroughly  waked  up  all  there 
is  in  a  man,  and  the  time  is  at  hand  that  he  is  to  make 
the  decision  what  to  do  with  it,  there  often  comes  a  wan 
dering,  darkened,  unsettled,  tempted  passage  in  his  life. 
In  Christ's  temptations  we  may  see  all  that  besets  the 
young  man. 

The  daily-bread  question,  or  how  to  get  a  living,  —  the 
ambitious  heavings,  or  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the 
glory  of  them,  all  to  be  got  by  some  yielding  to  Satan,  — 
the  ostentatious  impulse  to  come  down  on  the  world  with 
a  rush  and  a  sensation,  —  these  are  mirrored  in  a  young 
man's  smaller  life  just  as  they  were  in  that  great  life. 
The  whole  heavens  can  be  reflected  in  the  little  pool  as  in 
the  broad  ocean! 

All  these  elements  of  unrest  had  been  boiling  in  my 
mind  during  the  last  year.  Who  wants  to  be  nothing  in 
the  great  world  1  No  young  man  at  this  time  of  his  course. 
The  wisdom  of  becoming  nothing  that  he  may  possess  all 
things  is  too  high  for  this  stage  of  immaturity. 

I  came  into  college  as  simple,  and  contented,  and  satis- 


THE   BLUE   MISTS  79 

fied  as  a  huckleberry  bush  in  a  sweet-fern  pasture.  I  felt 
rich  enough  for  all  I  wanted  to  do,  and  my  path  of  life  lay 
before  me  denned  with  great  simplicity.  But  my  intimacy 
with  Miss  Ellery,  her  marriage  and  all  that  pertained  to  it, 
had  brought  before  my  eyes  the  world  of  wealth  and  fash 
ion,  a  world  which  a  young  collegian  may  try  to  despise, 
and  about  which  he  may  write  the  most  disparaging  moral 
reflections,  but  which  has,  after  all,  its  power  to  trouble 
his  soul.  The  consciousness  of  being  gloveless,  and  thread 
bare  in  toilette,  comes  over  one  in  certain  atmospheres,  as 
the  consciousness  of  nakedness  to  Adam  and  Eve.  It  is 
true  that  in  the  institution  where  I  attended,  as  in  many 
other  rural  colleges  in  New  England,  I  was  backed  up  by 
a  majority  of  healthy-minded,  hardy  men,  of  real  mark 
and  worth,  children  of  honest  toil  and  self-respecting  pov 
erty,  who  were  bravely  working  their  way  up  through 
education  to  the  prizes  and  attainments  of  life.  Simple 
economies  were  therefore  well  understood  and  respected  in 
the  college. 

Nevertheless  there  is  something  not  altogether  vulgar  in 
the  attractions  which  wealth  enables  one  to  throw  around 
himself.  I  was  a  social  favorite  in  college,  and  took  a 
stand  among  my  fellows  as  a  writer  and  speaker,  and  so 
had  a  considerable  share  of  that  sincere  sort  of  flattery 
which  college  boys  lavish  on  each  other.  I  was  invited 
and  made  much  of  by  some  whose  means  were  ample, 
whose  apartments  were  luxuriously  and  tastefully  furnished, 
but  who  were  none  the  less  good  scholars  and  high-minded, 
gentlemanly  fellows. 

In  their  vacations  I  had  been  invited  to  their  houses, 
and  had  seen  all  the  refinement,  the  repose,  the  ease,  and 
the  quietude  that  come  from  the  possession  of  wealth  in 
the  hands  of  those  who  know  how  to  use  it.  Wealth  in 
such  hands  gives  opportunities  of  the  broadest  culture, 
ability  to  live  in  the  wisest  manner,  freedom  to  choose  the 


80  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

healthiest  surroundings  both  for  mind  and  body,  not  re 
stricted  by  considerations  of  expense;  and  how  could  I 
think  it  anything  else  than  an  object  ardently  to  be 
sought  ? 

It  is  true,  my  rich  friends  seemed  equally  to  enjoy  the 
vacations  in  my  little,  plain,  mountain  home.  People  gen 
erally  are  insensible  to  advantages  they  have  always  enjoyed, 
and  have  an  appetite  for  something  new;  so  the  homely 
rusticity  of  our  house,  the  perfect  freedom  from  convention 
alities,  the  wild,  mountain  scenery,  the  wholesome  detail  of 
farm  life,  the  barn  with  its  sweet  stores  of  hay,  and  its 
nooks  and  corners  and  hiding-places,  the  gathering  in  of 
our  apples,  and  the  making  of  cider,  the  corn-huskings  and 
Thanksgiving  frolics,  seemed  to  have  their  interest  and 
delights  to  them,  and  they  often  told  me  I  was  a  lucky 
fellow  to  be  born  to  such  pleasant  surroundings.  But  I 
thought  within  myself,  It  is  easy  to  say  this  when  you  feel 
the  control  of  thousands  in  your  pocket,  when  if  you  are 
tired  you  can  go  to  any  land  or  country  of  the  earth  for 
change  of  scene. 

In  fact,  we  see  in  history  that  the  crusade  of  St.  Francis 
in  favor  of  Poverty  was  not  begun  by  a  poor  man,  but  by 
a  young  nobleman  who  had  known  nothing  hitherto  but 
wealth  and  luxury.  It  is  from  the  rich,  if  from  any,  that 
our  grasping  age  must  learn  renunciation  and  simplicity. 
It  is  easier  to  renounce  a  good  which  one  has  tried  and  of 
which  one  knows  all  the  attendant  thorns  and  stings  than 
to  renounce  one  that  has  been  only  painted  by  the  imagi 
nation,  and  whose  want  has  been  keenly  felt.  When  I 
came  to  the  college  I  came  from  the  controlling  power  of 
home  influences.  At  an  early  age  I  had  felt  the  strength 
of  that  sphere  of  spirituality  that  encircled  the  lives  of  my 
parents,  and,  being  very  receptive  and  sympathetic,  had 
reflected  in  my  childish  nature  all  their  feelings. 

I  had  renounced  the  world  before  I  knew  what  the  world 


THE   BLUE   MISTS  81 

was.  I  had  joined  my  father's  church  and  was  looked 
upon  as  one  destined  in  time  to  take  up  my  father's  work 
of  the  ministry.  Four  years  had  passed,  and  I  came  back 
to  my  mother,  weakened  and  doubting,  indisposed  to  take 
up  the  holy  work  to  which  in  my  early  days  I  looked  for 
ward  with  enthusiasm,  yet  with  all  the  sadness  which 
comes  from  indecision  as  to  one's  life-object.  To  be  a 
minister  is  to  embrace  a  life  of  poverty,  of  toil,  of  self- 
denial.  To  do  this,  not  only  with  cheerfulness  but  with 
an  enthusiasm  which  shall  bear  down  all  before  it,  which 
shall  elevate  it  into  the  region  of  moral  poetry  and  ideality, 
requires  a  fervid,  unshaken  faith.  The  man  must  feel  the 
power  of  an  endless  life,  be  lifted  above  things  material 
and  temporal  to  things  sublime  and  eternal. 

Now  it  is  one  peculiarity  of  the  professors  of  the  Chris 
tian  religion  that  they  have  not,  at  least  of  late  years, 
arranged  their  system  of  education  with  any  wise  adaptation 
to  having  their  young  men  come  out  of  it  Christians.  In 
this  they  differ  from  many  other  religionists.  The  Brah 
mins  educate  their  sons  so  that  they  shall  infallibly  become 
Brahmins;  the  Jews  so  that  they  shall  infallibly  be  Jews; 
the  Mohammedans  so  that  they  shall  be  Mohammedans ;  but 
the  Christians  educate  their  sons  so  that  nearly  half  of  them 
turn  out  unbelievers  —  professors  of  no  religion  at  all. 

There  is  a  book  which  the  Christian  world  unite  in  de 
claring  to  be  an  infallible  revelation  from  Heaven.  It  has 
been  the  judgment  of  critics  that  the  various  writings  in 
this  volume  excel  other  writings  in  point  of  mere  literary 
merit  as  much  as  they  do  in  purity  and  elevation  of  the 
moral  sentiment.  Yet  it  is  remarkable  that  the  critical 
study  of  these  sacred  writings  in  their  original  tongues  is 
not  in  most  of  our  Christian  colleges  considered  as  an  essen 
tial  part  of  the  education  of  a  Christian  gentleman,  while 
the  heathen  literature  of  Greece  and  Rome  is  treated  as 
something  indispensable,  and  to  be  gained  at  all  hazards. 


82  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

It  is  a  fact  that  from  the  time  that  the  boy  begins  to  fit 
for  college,  his  mind  is  so  driven  and  pressed  with  the 
effort  to  acquire  the  classical  literature,  that  there  is  no 
time  to  acquire  the  literature  of  the  Bible,  neither  is  it 
associated  in  his  mind  with  the  dignity  and  respect  of  a 
classical  attainment.  He  must  be  familiar  with  Horace 
and  Ovid,  with  Cicero  and  Plato,  ^Eschylus  and  Homer  in 
their  original  tongues,  but  the  majestic  poetry  of  the  Old 
Testament,  and  its  sages  and  seers  and  prophets,  become 
with  every  advancing  year  more  unintelligible  to  him.  A 
thoroughly  educated  graduate  of  most  of  our  colleges  is 
unprepared  to  read  intelligently  many  parts  of  Isaiah  or 
Ezekiel  or  Paul's  Epistles.  The  Scripture  lessons  of  the 
church  service  often  strike  on  his  ear  as  a  strange  quaint 
babble  of  peculiar  sounds,  without  rhyme  or  reason.  Un 
cultured  and  uneducated  in  all  that  should  enable  him  to 
understand  them,  he  is  only  preserved  by  a  sort  of  educa 
tional  awe  from  regarding  them  as  the  jargon  of  barbarians. 

Meanwhile,  this  literature  of  the  Bible,  strange,  weird, 
sibylline,  and  full  of  unfulfilled  needs  and  requirements  of 
study,  is  being  assailed  in  detail  through  all  the  courses  of 
a  boy's  college  life.  The  objections  to  it  as  a  divine  reve 
lation  relate  to  critical  questions  in  languages  of  which  he 
is  ignorant,  and  yet  they  are  everywhere;  they  are  in  the 
air  he  breathes,  they  permeate  all  literature,  they  enter 
into  modern  science,  they  disintegrate  and  wear  away,  bit 
by  bit,  his  reverence  and  his  confidence. 

This  work  had  been  going  on  insensibly  in  my  head 
during  my  college  life,  notwithstanding  the  loyalty  of  my 
heart.  During  those  years  I  had  learned  to  associate  the 
Bible  with  the  most  sacred  memories  of  home,  with  the 
dearest  loves  of  home  life.  It  was  woven  with  remem 
brances  of  daily  gatherings  around  the  family  altar,  with 
scenes  of  deepest  emotion  when  I  had  seen  my  father  and 
mother  fly  to  its  shelter  and  rest  upon  its  promises.  There 


THE   BLUE   MISTS  83 

were  passages  that  never  recurred  to  me  except  with  the 
sound  of  my  father's  vibrating  voice,  penetrating  their 
words  with  a  never  dying  power.  The  Bible  was  to  me 
like  a  father  and  a  mother,  and  the  doubts,  and  queries, 
the  respectful  suggestions  of  incredulity,  the  mildly  sugges 
tive  abatements  of  its  authority,  which  met  me,  now  here 
and  now  there,  in  all  the  course  of  my  readings  and  studies, 
were  as  painful  to  me  as  reflections  cast  on  my  father's 
probity  or  my  mother's  honor. 

I  would  not  listen  to  them,  I  would  not  give  them  voice, 
I  smothered  them  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  my  heart,  while 
meantime  the  daily  pressure  that  came  on  me  in  the  studies 
and  requirements  of  college  life  left  me  neither  leisure  nor  in 
clination  to  pursue  the  researches  that  should  clear  them  up. 

To  be  sure,  nothing  is  so  important  as  the  soul  —  no 
thing  is  of  so  much  moment  as  religion,  and  the  question 
"Is  this  God's  book  or  is  it  not? "  is  the  question  of  ques 
tions.  It  underlies  all  things,  and  he  who  is  wise  would 
drop  all  other  things  and  undergo  any  toil  and  make  any 
studies  that  should  fit  him  to  judge  understandingly  on 
this  point.  But  I  speak  from  experience  when  I  say  that 
the  course  of  study  in  Christian  America  is  so  arranged 
that  a  boy,  from  the  grammar  school  upward  till  he  gradu 
ates,  is  so  fully  pressed  and  overladen  with  all  other  studies 
that  there  is  no  probability  that  he  will  find  the  time  or 
the  inclination  for  such  investigation.  In  most  cases  he 
will  do  just  what  I  did,  throw  himself  upon  the  studies 
proposed  to  him,  work  enough  to  meet  the  demands  of  the 
hour,  and  put  off  the  acquisition  of  that  more  important 
knowledge  to  an  indefinite  future,  and  sigh,  and  go  back 
ward  in  his  faith. 

But  without  faith  or  with  a  faith  trembling  and  uncer 
tain,  how  is  a  man  to  turn  his  back  on  the  world  that  is 
before  him  —  the  world  that  he  can  see,  hear,  touch,  and 
taste  —  to  work  for  the  world  that  is  unseen  and  eternal  1 


84  MY   WIFE   AND   1 

I  will  not  repeat  the  flattering  words  that  often  fell  on 
my  ear  and  said  to  me,  "You  can  make  your  way  any 
where.;  you  can  be  anything  you  please."  And  then  there 
were  voices  that  said  in  my  heart,  "I  may  have  wealth, 
and  with  it  means  of  power,  of  culture,  of  taste,  of  luxury. 
If  I  only  set  out  for  that,  I  may  get  it. "  And  then,  in 
contrast,  came  that  life  I  had  seen  my  father  live,  in  its 
grand  simplicity,  in  its  enthusiastic  sincerity,  in  its  exult 
ing  sense  of  joy  in  what  he  was  doing,  down  to  the  last 
mortal  moment,  and  I  wished,  oh,  how  fervently!  that  I 
could  believe  as  he  did.  But  to  be  a  minister  merely  from 
a  sense  of  duty  —  to  bear  the  burden  of  poverty  with  no 
perception  of  the  unspeakable  riches  which  Christ  hath 
placed  therein  —  who  would  not  shrink  from  a  life  so  grat 
ing  and  so  cold  ?  To  choose  the  ministry  as  a  pedestal  for 
oratory  and  self-display  and  poetic  religious  sentiment,  and 
thus  to  attain  distinction  and  easy  position,  and  the  com 
mand  of  fashionable  luxury,  seemed  to  me  a  temptation  to 
desecration  still  more  terrible,  and  I  dreaded  the  hour 
which  should  close  my  college  life  and  make  a  decision 
inevitable. 

It  was  with  a  sober  and  sad  heart  that  I  closed  my  col 
lege  course  and  parted  from  classmates — jolly  fellows 
with  whom  had  rolled  away  the  four  best  years  of  my  life 
—  years  that  as  one  goes  on  afterwards  in  age  look  brighter 
and  brighter  in  the  distance.  It  was  a  lonesome  and  pok- 
erish  operation  to  dismantle  the  room  that  had  long  been 
my  home,  to  bargain  away  my  furniture,  pack  my  books, 
and  bid  a  final  farewell  to  all  the  old  quiddities  and  oddi 
ties  that  I  had  grown  attached  to  in  the  quaint  little  vil 
lage.  The  parting  from  Alma  Mater  is  a  second  leaving  of 
home  —  and  this  time  for  the  great  world.  There  is  no 
staving  off  the  battle  of  life  now  —  the  tents  are  struck, 
the  camp-fires  put  out,  and  one  must  be  on  the  march. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

AN    OUTLOOK    IXTO    LIFE 

MY  coming  back  to  my  native  town  was  an  event  of 
public  notoriety.  I  had  won  laurels,  and  as  I  was  the 
village  property,  my  laurels  were  duly  commented  on  and 
properly  appreciated.  Highland  was  one  of  those  thrifty 
Yankee  settlements  where  every  house  seems  to  speak  the 
people  so  well-to-do,  and  so  careful,  and  progressive  in  all 
the  means  of  material  comfort.  There  was  not  a  house  in 
it  that  was  not  in  a  sort  of  healthy,  growing  state,  receiv 
ing,  from  time  to  time,  some  accession  that  showed  that 
the  Yankee  aspiration  was  busy,  stretching  and  enlarging. 
This  had  a  new  bay-window,  and  that  had  a  new  veranda; 
the  other,  new,  tight,  white  picket  fences  all  round  the 
yard.  Others  rejoiced  in  a  fresh  coat  of  paint.  But  all 
were  alive,  and  apparently  self-repairing.  There  was  to 
every  house  the  thrifty  wood-pile,  seasoning  for  winter; 
the  clean  garden,  with  its  wealth  of  fruit  and  its  gay  bor 
ders  of  flowers;  and  every  new  kind  of  flower,  and  every 
choice  new  fruit,  found  somewhere  a  patron  who  was  try 
ing  a  hand  at  it. 

Highland  was  a  place  worth  living  in  just  for  its  scenery. 
It  was  at  that  precise  point  of  the  country  where  the  hills 
are  inspiriting,  vivacious,  reminding  one  of  the  Psalm,  — 
"The  little  hills  rejoice  on  every  side!"  Mountains  are 
grand,  but  they  also  are  dreary.  For  a  near  prospect  they 
overpower  too  much,  they  shut  out  the  sun,  they  have  sav 
age  propensities,  untamable  by  man,  shown  once  in  a 
while  in  landslides  and  freshets;  but  these  half-grown 


86  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

hills  uplift  one  like  waves  of  the  sea.  In  summer  they  are 
wonderful  in  all  possible  shades  of  greenness;  in  autumn 
they  are  like  a  mystical  rainbow  —  an  ocean  of  waves,  flam 
boyant  with  every  wonderful  device  of  color;  and  even 
when  the  leaves  are  gone,  in  November,  and  nothing  left 
but  the  bristling  steel-blue  outlines  of  trees,  there  is  a  won 
derful  purple  haze,  a  veil  of  dreamy  softness,  around  them, 
that  makes  you  think  you  never  saw  them  so  beautiful. 

So  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  came  rambling  over  hill  and 
dale  back  to  the  old  homestead,  and  met  my  mother's 
bright  face  of  welcome  at  the  door.  I  was  the  hero  of  the 
hour  at  home,  and  everything  had  been  prepared  to  make 
me  welcome.  My  brother,  who  kept  the  homestead,  had 
relinquished  the  prospect  of  a  college  life,  and  devoted  him 
self  to  farming,  but  looked  on  me  as  the  most  favored  of 
mortals  in  the  attainments  I  had  made.  His  young  wife  and 
growing  family  of  children  clustered  around  my  mother  and 
leaned  on  her  experience;  and  as  every  one  in  the  little 
village  knew  and  loved  her,  there  was  a  general  felicitation 
and  congratulation  on  the  event  of  my  return  and  my  honors. 

"See  him  in  his  father's  pulpit  afore  long,"  said  Deacon 
Manning,  who  called  the  first  evening  to  pay  his  respects; 
"better  try  his  hand  at  the  weekly  prayer  meeting,  and 
stir  us  up  a  bit." 

"I  think,  Deacon,"  said  I,  "I  shall  have  to  be  one  of 
those  that  learn  in  silence,  awhile  longer.  I  may  come  to 
be  taught,  but  I  certainly  cannot  teach." 

"Well,  now,  that's  modest  for  a  young  fellow  that's 
just  been  through  college !  They  commonly  are  as  fea 
thery  and  highflying  as  a  this  year's  rooster,  and  ready  to 
crow  whether  their  voice  breaks  or  not,"  said  the  deacon. 
" '  Learn  in  silence! '  Well,  that  'ere  beats  all  for  a  young 
man!" 

I  thought  to  myself  that  the  good  deacon  little  knew  the 
lack  of  faith  that  was  covered  by  my  humility. 


AN   OUTLOOK   INTO   LIFE  87 

Since  my  father's  death  my  mother  had  made  her  home 
with  my  Uncle  Jacob.  Her  health  was  delicate,  and  she 
preferred  to  enjoy  the  honors  of  a  grandmother  at  a  little 
distance.  My  Uncle  Jacob  had  no  children.  Aunt  Polly, 
his  wife,  was  just  the  softest,  sleekest,  most  domestic  dove 
of  a  woman  whose  wings  were  ever  covered  with  silver.  I 
always  think  of  her  in  some  soft,  pearly  silk,  with  a  filmy 
cap,  and  a  half-handkerchief  crossed  over  a  gentle,  motherly 
bosom,  soft  moving,  soft  speaking,  but  with  a  pair  of 
bright,  hazel  eyes,  keen  as  arrows  to  send  their  glances  into 
every  place  in  her  dominions.  Let  anybody  try  sending 
in  a  false  account  to  Aunt  Polly,  and  they  will  see  that 
the  brightness  of  her  eyes  was  not  merely  for  ornament. 
Yet  everything  she  put  her  hand  to  went  so  exactly,  so 
easily,  you  would  have  said  those  eyes  were  made  for 
nothing  but  reading,  for  which  Aunt  Polly  had  a  great 
taste,  and  for  which  she  found  abundance  of  leisure. 

My  mother  and  she  were  enjoying  together  a  long  and 
quiet  Saturday  afternoon  of  life,  reading  to  each  other,  and 
quietly  and  leisurely  discussing  all  that  they  read,  —  not 
merely  the  last  novel,  as  the  fashion  of  women  in  towns 
and  cities  is  apt  to  be,  but  all  the  solid  works  of  philoso 
phy  and  literature  that  marked  the  times.  My  uncle's 
house  was  like  a  bookseller's  stall, — it  was  overrunning 
with  books.  The  cases  covered  the  walls;  they  crowded 
the  corners  and  angles;  and  still  every  noteworthy  book 
was  ordered,  to  swell  the  stock. 

My  mother  and  aunt  had  read  together  Lecky,  and 
Buckle,  and  Herbert  Spencer,  with  the  keen  critical  inter 
est  of  fresh  minds.  Had  it  troubled  their  faith  1  Not  in 
the  least;  no  more  than  it  would  that  of  Mary  on  the 
morning  after  the  resurrection !  There  is  a  certain  moral 
altitude  where  faith  becomes  knowledge,  and  the  bat-wings 
of  doubt  cannot  fly  so  high.  My  mother  was  dwelling  in 
that  land  of  Beulah,  where  the  sun  always  shineth,  and  the 


88  MY    WIFE   AND    I 

bells  of  the  heavenly  city  are  heard,  and  the  shining  ones 
walk.  All  was  clear  to  her,  all  bright,  all  real,  in  "the 
beyond ; "  but  that  kind  of  evidence  is  above  the  realm  of 
heavy-footed  reason.  The  "joy  unspeakable,"  the  "peace 
that  passeth  understanding,"  are  things  that  cannot  be 
passed  from  hand  to  hand.  Else  I  am  quite  sure  my 
mother  would  have  taken  the  crown  of  joy  from  her  head 
and  the  peace  from  her  bosom,  and  given  them  to  me. 
But  the  "white  stone  with  the  new  name"  is  Christ's  gift 
to  each  for  himself,  and  "no  man  knoweth  it  save  he  that 
receiveth  it." 

But  these  witnesses  who  stand  gazing  into  heaven  are 
not  without  their  power  on  us  who  stand  lower.  It  stead 
ied  my  moral  nerves,  so  to  speak,  that  my  mother  had  read 
and  weighed  the  words  that  were  making  so  much  doubt 
and  shaking;  that  she  fully  comprehended  them,  and  that 
she  smiled  without  fear.  She  listened  without  distress, 
without  anxiety,  to  all  my  doubts  and  falterings.  "You 
must  pass  through  this;  you  will  be  led;  it  will  all  come 
right,"  she  said;  "and  then  perhaps  you  will  be  the  guide 
of  others." 

I  had  feared  to  tell  her  that  I  had  abandoned  the  pur 
pose  of  the  ministry,  but  I  found  it  easy. 

"I  would  not  have  you  embrace  the  ministry  for  any 
thing  but  a  true  love,"  she  said,  "any  more  than  I  would 
that  you  should  marry  a  wife  for  any  other  reason.  If 
ever  the  time  comes  that  you  feel  you  must  be  that,  it 
will  be  your  call;  but  you  can  be  God's  minister  otherwise 
than  through  the  pulpit." 

"Talk  over  your  plans  with  your  uncle,"  she  said;  "he 
is  in  your  father's  place  now." 

In  fact,  my  uncle,  having  no  children  of  his  own,  had 
set  his  heart  on  me,  and  was  disposed  to  make  me  heir, 
not  only  to  his  very  modest  personal  estate,  but  also  to 
his  harvest  of  ideas  and  opinions,  —  all  that  backwater  of 


AN   OUTLOOK   INTO   LIFE  89 

thoughts  and  ideas  that  accumulate  on  the  mind  of  a  man 
who  thinks  and  reads  a  great  deal  in  a  lonely  neighbor 
hood.  So  he  took  me  up  as  a  companion  in  his  daily  rides 
over  the  country. 

"Well,  Harry,  where  next?"  he  said  to  me  the  day 
after  my  return,  as  we  were  driving  together.  "What  are 
you  about  1  Going  to  try  the  ministry  ?  " 

"I  dare  not;  I  am  not  fit.  I  know  father  wanted  it, 
and  prayed  for  it,  and  nothing  would  be  such  a  joy  to 
mother,  but " 

My  uncle  gave  a  shrewd,  sidelong  glance  on  me. 

"I  suppose  you  are  like  a  good  many  fellows;  an  educa 
tion  gives  them  a  general  shaking  up,  and  all  their  beliefs 
break  from  their  lashings  and  go  rolling  and  tumbling 
about  like  spars  and  oil-casks  in  a  storm  on  shipboard." 

"I  can't  say  that  is  true  of  all  my  beliefs;  but  yet  a 
great  many  things  that  I  tried  to  regard  as  certain  are 
untied.  I  have  too  many  doubts  for  a  teacher." 

"Who  hasn't?  I  don't  know  anything  in  heaven  or 
earth  that  forty  unanswerable  questions  can't  be  asked 
about." 

"You  know,"  answered  I,  "Tennyson  says,  — 

'  There  lives  more  faith  in  honest  doubt, 
Believe  me,  than  in  half  the  creeds.'  " 

"H'm!  that  depends.  Doubt  is  very  well  as  a  sort  of 
constitutional  crisis  in  the  beginning  of  one's  life;  but  if 
it  runs  on  and  gets  to  be  chronic,  it  breaks  a  fellow  up, 
and  makes  him  morally  spindling  and  sickly.  Men  that 
do  anything  in  the  world  must  be  men  of  strong  convic 
tions;  it  won't  do  to  go  through  life  like  a  hen,  craw- 
crawing  and  lifting  up  one  foot,  and  not  knowing  where  to 
set  it  down  next." 

"But,"  said  I,  "while  I  am  passing  through  the  consti 
tutional  crisis,  as  you  call  it,  is  the  very  time  I  must  make 
up  my  mind  to  teach  others  on  the  most  awful  of  all  sub- 


90  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

jects.  I  cannot  and  dare  not.  I  must  be  a  learner  for 
some  years  to  come,  and  I  must  be  a  learner  without  any 
pledges,  expressed  or  implied,  to  find  the  truth  this  way 
or  that." 

"Well,"  said  my  uncle,  "I'm  not  so  greatly  concerned 
about  that  —  the  Lord  needs  other  ministers  besides  those 
in  the  pulpit.  Why,  man,  the  sermons  on  the  evidences 
of  Christianity  that  have  come  home  to  me  most  have  been 
preached  by  lay  preachers  in  poor  houses  and  lonely 
churches,  by  ignorant  men  and  women,  and  little  children. 
There  's  old  Aunt  Sarah  there,"  he  said,  pointing  with  his 
whip  to  a  brown  house  in  the  distance:  "that  woman  is 
dying  of  a  cancer,  that  slowly  eats  away  her  life  in  linger 
ing  agony,  and  all  her  dependence  is  the  work  of  a  sickly, 
consumptive  daughter,  and  yet  she  is  more  than  resigned 
to  her  lot;  she  is  so  cheerful,  so  thankful,  so  hopeful,  there 
is  such  a  blessed  calm,  peace  and  rest  and  sweetness  in 
that  house,  that  I  love  to  go  there.  The  influence  of  that 
woman  is  felt  all  through  the  village  —  she  preaches  to 
some  purpose." 

"Because  she  knows  what  she  believes,"  I  said. 

"It  was  the  same  with  your  father,  Harry.  Now,  my 
boy,"  he  added,  turning  to  me  with  the  old  controversial 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  speaking  in  a  confidential  tone, 
"the  fact  is,  I  never  agreed  with  your  father  doctrinally; 
there  were  weak  spots  in  his  system  all  along,  and  I  always 
told  him  so.  I  could  trip  him  and  floor  him  in  an  argu 
ment,  and  have  done  it  a  hundred  times,"  he  said,  giving 
a  touch  to  his  horse. 

I  thought  to  myself  that  it  was  well  enough  that  my 
father  wasn't  there  to  hear  that  statement,  otherwise  there 
would  have  been  an  immediate  tilting  match,  and  the  whole 
ground  to  be  gone  over. 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "it  wasn't  mainly  in  your  father's 
theology  that  his  strength  lay  —  it  was  the  Christ  in  him 


AN   OUTLOOK   INTO   LIFE  91 

—  the  great  warm  heart  —  his  crystal  purity  and  simplicity 

—  his  unworldly  earnestness  and  honesty.     He  was  a  godly 
man  and  a  manly  man  both,  and  he  sowed  seed  all  over 
this  State  that  came  up  good  men  and  good  women.      Yes, 
there  are  hundreds  and  hundreds  in  this  State  to-day  that 
are  good  men  and  good  women  mainly  because  he  lived. 
That 's  what  I  call  success  in  life,  Harry,  when  a  man  car 
ries  himself  so  that  he  turns  into  seed-corn  and  makes  a 
harvest  of  good  people.      You  may  upset  a  man's  reason 
ings,   and  his  theology  may  go  to  the  dogs,  but  a  brave 
Christian  life  you  can't  upset,  it  will  tell.      Now,  Harry, 
are  you  going  to  try  for  that  1 " 

"  God  helping  rne,  I  will, "  I  said. 

"  You  see,  as  to  the  theologies, "  he  added,  "I  think  it 
has  been  well  said  that  the  Christian  world  just  now  is  like 
a  ship  that 's  tacking;  it  has  lost  the  wind  on  one  side  and 
not  quite  got  it  on  the  other.  The  growth  of  society,  the 
development  of  new  physical  laws,  and  this  modern  scientific 
rush  of  the  human  mind  are  going  to  modify  the  man-made 
theologies  and  creeds ;  some  of  them  will  drop  away  just  as  the 
blossom  does  when  the  fruit  forms,  but  Christ's  religion  will 
be  just  the  same  as  ever  —  his  words  will  not  pass  away." 

"But  then,'7  I  said,  "there  is  a  whole  labyrinth  of  per 
plexing  questions  about  this  Bible.  What  is  inspiration? 
What  ground  does  it  cover?  How  much  of  all  these  books 
is  inspired  ?  What  is  their  history  ?  How  came  we  by 
them  ?  What  evidence  have  we  that  the  record  gives  us 
Christ's  words  uncorrupted?  " 

"If  you  had  been  brought  up  in  Justin  Martyr's  time 
or  the  days  of  the  primitive  Christians  you  would  have 
been  put  to  study  all  these  things  first  and  foremost  in 
your  education,  but  we  modern  Christians  teach  young 
men  everything  else  except  what  we  profess  to  think  the 
most  important;  and  so  you  come  out  of  college  ignorant, 
just  where  knowledge  is  most  vital." 


92  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Well,  that  is  past  praying  for  now,"  said  I. 

"Yes;  but  even  now  there  is  a  way  out  —  just  as  going 
through  a  bog  you  plant  your  foot  hard  on  what  land  there 
is,  and  then  take  your  bearings  —  so  you  must  do  here. 
The  way  to  get  rid  of  doubts  in  religion  is  to  go  to  work 
with  all  our  might  and  practice  what  we  don't  doubt,  and 
that  you  can  do  whatever  your  calling  or  profession." 

"I  shall  certainly  try,"  said  I. 

"For  example,"  said  my  uncle,  "there's  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount.  Nobody  has  any  doubt  about  that,  there  it 
lies  —  plain  enough,  and  enough  of  it  —  not  a  bit  of  what 's 
called  theology  in  it.  Not  a  word  of  information  to  settle 
the  mooted  questions  men  wrangle  over,  but  with  a  direct 
answer  to  just  the  questions  any  thoughtful  man  must 
want  to  have  answered  when  he  looks  at  life.  Is  there  a 
Father  in  the  heavens  ?  Will  he  help  us  if  we  ask  ?  May 
the  troubles  of  life  be  our  discipline  1  Is  there  a  better 
life  beyond?  And  how  are  we  to  get  that?  There  is 
Christ's  philosophy  of  life  in  that  sermon,  and  Christ's 
mode  of  dealing  with  actual  existing  society;  and  he  who 
undertakes  in  good  faith  to  square  his  heart  and  life  by  it 
will  have  his  hands  full.  The  world  has  been  traveling 
eighteen  hundred  years  and  not  come  fully  into  the  light  of 
its  meaning.  There  has  never  been  a  Christian  state  or  a 
Christian  nation,  according  to  that.  That  document  is  in 
modern  society  just  like  a  lump  of  soda  in  a  tumbler  of  vine 
gar,  it  keeps  up  a  constant  commotion,  and  will  do  so  till 
every  particle  of  life  is  adjusted  on  its  principles.  The  man 
who  works  out  Christ's  teachings  into  a  palpable  life-form 
preaches  Christianity,  no  matter  what  his  trade  or  calling. 
He  may  be  a  coal-heaver,  or  he  may  be  a  merchant,  or  a 
lawyer,  or  an  editor  —  he  preaches  all  the  same.  Men  always 
know  it  when  they  meet  a  bit  of  Christ's  sermons  walking 
out  bodily  in  good  deeds;  they  're  not  like  worldly  wisdom, 
and  have  a  smack  of  something  a  good  deal  higher  than 


AN   OUTLOOK  INTO  LIFE  93 

common  sense,  but  when  people  see  it  they  say,  '  Yes  — 
that's  the  true  thing.'  Now  one  of  our  Presidents,  Gen 
eral  Harrison,  found  out  on  a  certain  day  that  through  a 
flaw  in  the  title-deeds  he  was  owner  to  half  the  city  of 
Cincinnati.  What  does  he  do  1  Why,  simply  he  says  to 
himself,  *  These  people  have  paid  their  money  in  good  faith, 
and  I  '11  do  by  them  as  I  'd  be  done  by, '  and  he  goes  to  a 
lawyer  and  has  fresh  deeds  drawn  out  for  the  whole  of 
'em,  and  lived  and  died  a  poor,  honest  man.  That  action 
was  a  preaching  of  Christ's  doctrine  as  I  take  it,  and  if 
you  '11  do  as  much  whenever  you  get  a  chance,  it 's  no 
matter  what  calling  you  take  for  a  pulpit.  So  now  tell 
me,  what  are  you  thinking  of  setting  yourself  about  1  " 

"I  intend  to  devote  myself  to  literature,"  said  I.  "I 
always  had  a  facility  for  writing,  while  I  never  felt  the  call 
or  impulse  toward  public  speaking;  and  I  think  the  field 
of  current  literature  opens  a  wide  scope.  I  have  had 
already  some  success  in  having  articles  accepted  and  well 
spoken  of,  and  have  now  some  promising  offers.  I  have 
an  opportunity  to  travel  in  Europe  as  correspondent  of  two 
papers,  and  I  shall  study  to  improve  myself.  In  time  I 
may  become  an  editor,  and  then  perhaps  at  last  proprietor 
of  a  paper.  So  runs  my  scheme  of  life,  and  I  hope  I  shall 
be  true  to  myself  and  my  religion  in  it.  I  shall  certainly 
try  to.  Current  literature,  the  literature  of  newspapers 
and  magazines,  is  certainly  a  power." 

"A  very  great  power,  Harry,"  said  my  uncle;  "and  get 
ting  to  be  in  our  day  a  tremendous  power,  a  power  far  out 
going  that  of  the  pulpit,  and  that  of  books.  This  constant 
daily  self-asserting  literature  of  newspapers  and  periodicals 
is  acting  on  us  tremendously  for  good  or  for  ill.  It  has  access 
to  us  at  all  hours  and  gets  itself  heard  as  a  preacher  cannot, 
and  gets  itself  read  as  scarcely  an}7  book  does.  It  ought 
to  be  entered  into  as  solemnly  as  the  pulpit,  for  it  is  using 
a  great  power.  Yet  just  now  it  is  power  without  respon- 


94  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

sibility.  It  is  in  the  hands  of  men  who  come  under  no 
pledge,  pass  no  examination,  give  no  vouchers,  though  they 
hold  a  power  more  than  that  of  all  other  professions  or 
books  united.  One  cannot  be  a  doctor,  or  a  lawyer,  or  a 
minister,  unless  some  body  of  his  fellows  looks  into  his 
fitness  to  serve  society  in  these  ways;  but  one  may  be 
turned  loose  to  talk  in  every  family  twice  a  day,  on  every 
subject,  sacred  and  profane,  and  say  anything  he  chooses 
without  even  the  safeguard  of  a  personal  responsibility. 
He  shall  speak  from  behind  a  screen  and  not  be  known. 
Now  you  know  old  Dante  says  that  the  souls  in  the  other 
world  were  divided  into  three  classes,  those  who  were  for 
God  and  those  who  were  for  the  Devil,  and  those  who  were 
for  neither,  but  for  themselves.  It  seems  to  me  that 
there  's  a  vast  many  of  these  latter  at  work  in  our  press 
—  smart  literary  adventurers,  who  don't  care  a  copper 
what  they  write  up  or  what  they  write  down,  wholly  in 
different  which  side  of  a  question  they  sustain,  so  they  do 
it  smartly,  and  ready  to  sell  their  wit,  their  genius,  and 
their  rhetoric  to  the  highest  bidder.  Now,  Harry,  I  'd 
rather  see  you  a  poor,  threadbare,  hard-worked,  country 
minister  than  the  smartest  and  brightest  fellow  that  ever 
kept  his  talents  on  sale  in  Vanity  Fair." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "isn't  it  just  here  that  your  principle 
of  living  out  a  gospel  should  come?  Must  there  not  be 
writers  for  the  press  who  believe  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  and  who  are  pledged  to  get  its  principles  into  life- 
forms  as  fast  as  they  can  1 " 

"Yea,  verily,"  said  my  uncle;  "but  do  you  mean  to 
keep  faithful  to  that?  You  have,  say,  a  good  knack  at 
English;  you  can  write  stories,  and  poems,  and  essays; 
you  have  a  turn  for  humor;  and  now  comes  the  Devil  to 
you  and  says,  '  Show  me  up  the  weak  points  of  those  re 
formers  ;  raise  a  laugh  at  those  temperance  men,  —  those 
religionists,  who,  like  all  us  poor  human  trash,  are  running 


AN  OUTLOOK  INTO  LIFE  95 

religion,  and  morals,  and  progress  into  the  ground. '  You 
can  succeed;  you  can  carry  your  world  with  you.  You 
see,  if  Virtue  came  straight  down  from  heaven  with  her 
white  wings  and  glistening  robes,  and  always  conducted 
herself  just  like  an  angel,  our  trial  in  life  would  n't  be  so 
great  as  it  is.  But  she  doesn't.  Human  virtue  is  more 
apt  to  appear  like  a  bewildered,  unprotected  female,  encum 
bered  with  all  sorts  of  irregular  bandboxes,  dusty,  dishev 
eled,  out  of  fashion,  and  elbowing  her  way  with  ungainly 
haste  and  ungraceful  postures.  You  know  there  are  stories 
of  powerful  fairies  who  have  appeared  in  this  way  among 
men,  to  try  their  hearts ;  and  those  who  protect  them  when 
they  are  feeble  and  dishonored,  they  reward  when  they  are 
glorious.  Now,  your  smart,  flippant,  second-rate  wits 
never  have  the  grace  to  honor  Truth  when  she  loses  her 
way,  and  gets  bewildered  and  dusty,  and  they  drive  a  flour 
ishing  business  in  laughing  down  the  world's  poor  efforts 
to  grow  better." 

"I  think,"  said  I,  "that  we  Americans  have  one  bril 
liant  example  of  a  man  who  had  keen  humor,  and  used  it 
on  the  Christian  side.  The  animus  of  the  '  Biglow  Pa 
pers  '  is  the  spirit  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  translated 
into  the  language  of  Yankee  life,  and  defended  with  wit 
and  drollery." 

"  You  say  truth,  Harry,  and  it  was  no  small  thing  to  do 
it;  for  the  Anti-Slavery  cause  then  was  just  in  that  chaotic 
state  in  which  every  strange  bird  and  beast,  every  shaggy, 
irregular,  unkempt  reformer,  male  and  female,  was  flocking 
to  it,  and  there  was  capital  scope  for  caricature  and  ridi 
cule;  and  all  the  fastidious,  and  conservative,  and  soft- 
handed,  and  even-stepping  people  were  measureless  in  their 
contempt  for  this  shocking  rabble.  Lowell  stood  between 
them  and  the  world,  and  fought  the  battle  with  weapons  that 
the  world  could  understand.  There  was  a  gospel  truth  in 
'  John  P.  Robinson,  he,' 


96  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

and  it  did  what  no  sermon  could;  this  is  the  more  remark 
able  because  he  used  for  the  purpose  a  harlequin  faculty, 
that  has  so  often  been  read  out  of  meeting  and  excommuni 
cated  that  the  world  had  come  to  look  at  it  as  ex  officio  of 
the  Devil.  Whittier  and  Longfellow  made  valiant  music 
of  the  solemn  sort,  but  Lowell  evangelized  wit." 

"The  fortunate  man,"  said  I,  "to  have  used  a  great 
opportunity ! " 

"Harry,  the  only  way  to  be  a  real  man  is  to  have  a 
cause  you  care  for  more  than  yourself.  That  made  your 
father  —  that  made  your  New  England  Fathers  —  that 
raises  literature  above  some  child's  play,  and  makes  it 
manly  —  but  if  you  would  do  it  you  must  count  on  one 
thing  —  that  the  Devil  will  tempt  you  in  the  outset  with 
the  bread  question  as  he  did  the  Lord.  '  Command  that 
these  stones  be  made  bread  '  is  the  first  onset  —  you  '11  want 
money,  and  money  will  be  offered  for  what  you  ought  not 
to  write.  There  's  the  sensational  novel,  the  blood  and 
murder  and  adultery  story,  of  which  modern  literature  is 
full  —  you  can  produce  it  —  do  it  perhaps  as  well  as  any 
body  —  it  will  sell.  Will  you  be  barkeeper  to  the  public, 
and  when  the  public  call  for  hot  brandy  sling  give  it  to 
them,  and  help  them  make  brutes  of  themselves1?  Will 
you  help  to  vulgarize  and  demoralize  literature  if  it  will 
pay?" 

"No,"  said  I,  "not  if  I  know  myself." 

"Then  you  've  got  to  begin  life  with  some  motive  higher 
than  to  make  money,  or  get  a  living,  and  you  '11  have 
sometimes  to  choose  between  poisonous  nonsense  that  brings 
pay  and  honest  truth  that  nobody  wants." 

"And  I  must  tell  the  Devil  that  there  is  a  higher  life 
than  the  bread-life  1 "  said  I. 

"Yes;  get  above  that,  to  begin  with.  Remember  the 
story  of  General  Marion,  who  invited  some  British  officers 
to  dine  with  him  and  gave  them  nothing  but  roasted  pota- 


AN  OUTLOOK  INTO  LIFE  97 

toes.  They  went  away  and  said  it  was  in  vain  to  try  to 
conquer  a  people  when  their  officers  would  live  on  such 
fare  rather  than  give  up  the  cause.  Do  you  know,  Harry, 
what  is  my  greatest  hope  for  this  State?  It's  this:  Two 
or  three  years  ago  there  was  urgent  need  to  carry  this  State 
in  an  election,  and  there  was  no  end  of  hard  money  sent 
up  to  buy  votes  among  our  poor  farmers;  but  they  could  n't 
be  bought.  They  had  learned,  '  Man  shall  not  live  by 
bread  alone, '  to  some  purpose.  The  State  went  all  straight 
for  liberty.  What  I  ask  of  any  man  who  wants  to  do  a 
life-work  is  ability  to  be  happy  on  a  little." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  have  been  brought  up  to  that.  I 
have  no  expensive  habits.  I  neither  drink  nor  smoke.  I 
am  used  to  thinking  definitely  as  to  figures,  and  I  am  will 
ing  to  work  hard,  and  begin  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder, 
but  I  mean  to  keep  my  conscience  and  my  religion,  and 
lend  a  helping  hand  to  the  good  cause  wherever  I  can." 

"  Well,  now,  my  boy,  there  are  only  two  aids  that  you  need 
for  this  —  one  is  God,  and  the  other  is  a  true,  good  woman. 
God  you  will  have,  but  the  woman  —  she  must  be  found. " 

I  felt  the  touch  on  a  sore  spot,  and  so  answered,  pur 
posely  misunderstanding  his  meaning.  "Yes,  I  have  not 
to  go  far  for  her  —  my  mother. " 

"Oh  yes,  my  boy  —  thank  God  for  her;  but,  Harry, 
you  can't  take  her  away  from  this  place ;  her  roots  have 
spread  here;  they  are  matted  and  twined  with  the  very 
soil;  they  run  under  every  homestead  and  embrace  every 
grave.  She  is  so  interwoven  with  this  village  that  she 
could  not  take  root  elsewhere;  beside  that,  Harry,  look  at 
the  clock  of  life  —  count  the  years,  sixty-five,  sixty-six, 
sixty-seven,  and  the  clock  never  stops!  Her  hair  is  all 
white  now,  and  that  snow  will  melt  by  and  by,  and  she 
will  be  gone  upward.  God  grant  I  may  go  first,  Harry." 

"And  I,  too,"  said  I  fervently.  "I  could  not  live 
without  her." 


98  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

"You  must  find  one  like  her,  Harry.  It  is  not  good 
for  man  to  be  alone;  we  all  need  the  motherly,  and  we 
must  find  it  in  a  wife.  Do  you  know  what  I  think  the 
prettiest  story  of  courtship  I  ever  read?  It's  the  account 
of  Isaac's  marriage  with  Rebecca,  away  back  in  the  simple 
old  times.  You  remember  the  ending  of  it,  —  {  And  Isaac 
brought  her  into  his  mother  Sarah's  tent,  and  took  Rebekah, 
and  she  became  his  wife,  and  Isaac  was  comforted  after  his 
mother's  death.'  There  's  the  philosophy  of  it,"  he  added; 
"it's  the  mother  living  again  in  the  wife.  The  motherly 
instinct  is  in  the  hearts  of  all  true  women,  and  sooner  or 
later  the  true  wife  becomes  a  mother  to  her  husband;  she 
guides  him,  cares  for  him,  teaches  him,  and  catechises  him 
all  in  the  nicest  way  possible.  Why,  I  'm  sure  I  never 
should  know  how  to  get  along  a  day  without  Polly  to  teach 
me  the  requirings  and  forbiddens  of  the  commandments; 
to  lecture  me  for  going  out  without  my  muffler,  and  see 
that  I  put  on  my  flannels  in  the  right  time;  to  insist  that 
I  shall  take  something  for  my  cough,  and  raise  a  rebellion 
to  my  going  out  when  there  's  a  northeaster.  So  much 
for  the  body,  and  as  for  the  soul-life,  I  believe  it  is  woman 
who  holds  faith  in  the  world  —  it  is  woman  behind  the 
wall,  casting  oil  on  the  fire  that  burns  brighter  and  brighter, 
while  the  Devil  pours  on  water;  and  you'll  never  get 
Christianity  out  of  the  earth  while  there  's  a  woman  in  it. 
I  'd  rather  have  my  wife's  and  your  mother's  opinion  on 
the  meaning  of  a  text  of  Scripture  than  all  the  doctors  of 
divinity,  and  their  faith  is  an  anchor  that  always  holds. 
Some  jackanapes  or  other,  I  read  once,  said  every  woman 
wanted  a  master,  and  was  as  forlorn  without  a  husband  as 
a  masterless  dog.  It 's  a  great  deal  truer  that  every  man 
wants  a  mother;  men  are  more  forlorn  than  masterless 
dogs,  a  great  deal,  when  no  woman  cares  for  them.  Look 
at  the  homes  single  women  make  for  themselves;  how  neat, 
how  cosy,  how  bright  with  the  oil  of  gladness,  and  then 


AN   OUTLOOK  INTO  LIFE  99 

look  at  old  bachelor  dens !  The  fact  is,  women  are  born 
comfort- makers,  and  can  get  along  by  themselves  a  great 
deal  better  than  we  can." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  marry.  Of 
course,  if  I  could  find  a  woman  like  my  mother,  it  would 
be  another  thing.  But  times  are  altered  —  the  women  of 
this  day  are  all  for  flash  and  ambition  and  money.  There 
are  no  more  such  as  you  used  to  find  in  the  old  days." 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Harry;  don't  come  to  me  with  that  sort 
of  talk.  Bad  sort  for  a  young  man  —  very.  What  I  want 
to  see  in  a  young  fellow  is  a  resolution  to  have  a  good  wife 
and  a  home  of  his  own  as  quick  as  he  can  find  it.  The 
Roman  Catholics  were  n't  so  far  out  of  the  way  when  they 
said  marriage  was  a  sacrament.  It  is  the  greatest  sacra 
ment  of  life,  and  that  old  Church  does  yeoman  service  to 
humanity  in  the  stand  she  takes  for  Christian  marriage.  I 
should  call  that  the  most  prosperous  state  when  all  the 
young  men  and  women  were  well  mated  and  helping  one 
another  according  to  God's  ordinances.  You  may  be  sure, 
Harry,  that  you  can  never  be  a  whole  man  without  a  wife. " 

"Well,"  I  said,  "there  's  time  enough  for  that  by  and 
by;  if  I  'm  predestinated  I  suppose  it  '11  come  along  when 
I  have  my  fortune  made." 

"Don't  wait  to  be  rich,  Harry.  Find  a  faithful,  heroic 
friend  that  will  strike  hands  with  you,  poor,  and  begin  to 
build  up  your  nest  together,  — that 's  the  way  your  father 
and  mother  did,  and  who  enjoyed  more?  That 's  the  way 
your  Aunt  Polly  and  I  did,  and  a  good  time  we  have  had 
of  it.  There  has  always  been  the  handful  of  meal  in  the 
barrel  and  the  little  oil  in  the  cruse,  and  if  the  way  we 
have  always  lived  is  poverty,  all  I  have  to  say  is,  poverty 
is  a  pretty  nice  thing." 

"But,"  said  I  bitterly,  "you  talk  of  golden  ages. 
There  are  no  such  women  now  as  you  found,  the  women 
now  are  mere  effeminate  dolls  of  fashion  —  all  they  want  is 


100  MY  WIFE  AND  I 

ease  and  show  and  luxury,  and  they  care  nothing  who 
gives  it  —  one  man  is  as  good  as  another  if  he  is  only 
rich." 

"Tut,  tut,  boy!  Don't  you  read  your  Bible?  Away 
back  in  Solomon's  time  it 's  written,  '  Who  can  find  a 
virtuous  woman  1  Her  price  is  above  rubies. '  Are  rubies 
found  without  looking  for  them,  and  do  diamonds  lie  about 
the  street?  Now,  just  attend  to  my  words  —  brave  men 
make  noble  women,  and  noble  women  make  brave  men. 
Be  a  true  man  first,  and  some  day  a  true  woman  will  be 
given  you.  Yes,  a  woman  whose  opinion  of  you  will  hold 
you  up  if  all  the  world  were  against  you,  and  whose  '  Well 
done ! '  will  be  a  better  thing  to  come  home  to  than  the 
senseless  shouting  of  the  world  who  scream  for  this  thing 
to-day  and  that  to-morrow." 

By  this  time  the  horse  had  turned  up  the  lane,  and  my 
mother  stood  smiling  in  the  door.  I  marked  the  soft 
white  hair  that  shone  like  a  moonlight  glory  round  her 
head,  and  prayed  inwardly  that  the  heavens  would  spare 
her  yet  a  little  longer. 


CHAPTER   IX 

COUSIN    CAROLINE 

"You  must  go  and  see  your  Cousin  Caroline,"  said  my 
mother,  the  first  evening  after  I  got  home;  "you've  no 
idea  how  pretty  she  's  grown." 

"  She  is  what  I  call  a  pattern  girl,"  said  my  Uncle  Jacob, 
"a  girl  that  can  make  the  most  of  life." 

"She  is  a  model  housekeeper  and  manager,"  said  Aunt 
Polly. 

Now  if  Aunt  Polly  called  a  girl  a  model  housekeeper,  it 
was  the  same  for  her  that  it  would  be  for  a  man  to  receive 
a  doctorate  from  a  college;  in  fact,  it  would  be  a  good  deal 
more,  as  Aunt  Polly  was  one  who  always  measured  her 
words,  and  never  said  anything  pro  forma,  or  without 
having  narrowly  examined  the  premises. 

Elderly  people  who  live  in  happy  matrimony  are  in  a 
gentle  way  disposed  to  be  match-makers.  If  they  have 
sense,  as  my  elders  did,  they  do  not  show  this  disposition 
in  any  very  pronounced  way.  They  never  advise  a  young 
man  directly  to  try  his  fortune  with  "So  and  so,"  knowing 
that  that  would,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  be  the  direct  way 
to  defeat  their  purpose.  So  my  mother's  gentle  suggestion, 
and  my  Uncle  Jacob's  praise,  and  Aunt  Polly's  indorse 
ment  were  simply  in  the  line  of  the  most  natural  remarks. 

Cousin  Caroline  was  the  daughter  of  Uncle  Jacob's 
brother,  the  only  daughter  in  the  family.  Her  father  was 
one  of  those  men  most  useful  and  necessary  in  society, 
composed  of  virtues  and  properties  wholly  masculine.  He 
was  strong,  energetic,  shrewd,  acridly  conscientious,  and 


102  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

with  an  intensity  of  self-will  and  love  of  domination. 
This  rugged  rock,  all  granite,  had  won  a  tender  woman  to 
nestle  and  flower  in  some  crevice  of  his  heart,  and  she  had 
clothed  him  with  a  garland  of  sons  and  one  flower  of  a 
daughter.  Within  a  year  or  two  her  death  had  left  this 
daughter  the  mistress  of  her  father's  family.  I  remem 
bered  Caroline  of  old,  as  my  school  companion;  the  leading 
scholar  in  every  study,  always  good-natured,  steady,  and 
clear-headed,  ready  to  help  me  when  I  faltered  in  a  transla 
tion  or  the  solution  of  an  algebraic  problem.  In  those 
days  I  never  thought  of  her  as  pretty.  There  were  the 
outlines  and  rudiments  which  might  bloom  into  beauty, 
but  thin,  pale,  colorless,  and  deficient  in  roundness  and 
grace. 

I  had  seen  very  little  of  Caroline  through  my  college 
life;  we  had  exchanged  occasionally  a  cousinly  letter,  but 
in  my  last  vacation  she  was  away  upon  a  visit.  I  was  not, 
therefore,  prepared  for  the  vision  which  bloomed  out  upon 
me  from  the  singers'  seat,  when  I  looked  up  on  Sunday 
and  saw  her,  standing  in  a  shaft  of  sunlight  that  lit  up  her 
whole  form  with  a  kind  of  glory.  I  rubbed  my  eyes  with 
astonishment,  as  I  saw  there  a  very  beautiful  woman,  and 
beautiful  in  quite  an  uncommon  style,  one  which  promised 
a  more  lasting  continuance  of  personal  attraction  than  is 
usual  with  our  New  England  girls.  I  own,  that  a  head 
and  bust  of  the  Venus  di  Milo  type ;  a  figure  at  once  grace 
ful,  yet  ample  in  its  proportions;  a  rich,  glowing  bloom, 
speaking  of  health  and  vigor,  — gave  a  new  radiance  to 
eyes  that  I  had  always  admired  in  days  when  I  never  had 
thought  of  even  raising  the  question  of  Caroline's  beauty. 
These  charms  were  set  off,  too,  by  a  native  talent  for  dress, 
—  that  sort  of  instinctive  gift  that  some  women  have  of 
arranging  their  toilette  so  as  exactly  to  suit  their  own  pecu 
liar  style.  There  was  nothing  fussy,  or  furbelowed,  or 
gaudy,  as  one  often  sees  in  the  dress  of  a  country  beauty, 


COUSIN   CAROLINE  103 

but  a  grand  and  severe  simplicity,  which  in  her  case  was 
the  very  perfection  of  art. 

My  Uncle  Ebenezer  Simmons  lived  at  a  distance  of 
nearly  two  miles  from  our  house,  but  that  evening,  after 
tea,  I  announced  to  my  mother  that  I  was  going  to  take  a 
walk  over  to  see  Cousin  Caroline.  I  perceived  that  the 
movement  was  extremely  popular  and  satisfactory  in  the 
eyes  of  all  the  domestic  circle. 

Whose  thoughts  do  not  travel  in  this  direction,  I  won 
der,  in  a  small  country  neighborhood?  Here  comes  Harry 
Henderson  home  from  college,  with  his  laurels  on  his  brow, 
and  here  is  the  handsomest  girl  in  the  neighborhood,  a 
pattern  of  all  the  virtues.  What  is  there  to  be  done, 
except  that  they  should  straightway  fall  in  love  with  each 
other,  and  taking  hold  of  hands  walk  up  the  Hill  Difficulty 
together?  I  presume  that  no  good  gossip  in  our  native 
village  saw  any  other  arrangement  of  our  destiny  as  possi 
ble  or  probable. 

I  may  just  as  well  tell  my  readers  first  as  last  that  we 
did  not  fall  in  love  with  each  other,  though  we  were  the 
very  best  friends  possible,  and  I  spent  nearly  half  my  time 
at  my  uncle's  house,  besetting  her  at  all  hours,  and  having 
the  best  possible  time  in  her  society;  but  our  relations 
were  as  frankly  and  clearly  those  of  brother  and  sister  as 
if  we  had  been  children  of  one  mother. 

For  a  beautiful  woman,  Caroline  had  the  least  of  what 
one  may  call  legitimate  coquetry  of  any  person  I  ever  saw. 
There  are  some  women,  and  women  of  a  high  class  too, 
who  seem  to  take  a  natural  and  innocent  pleasure  in  the 
power  which  their  sex  enables  them  to  exercise  over  men, 
and  who  instinctively  do  a  thousand  things  to  captivate 
and  charm  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  even  when  they  would 
greatly  regret  winning  his  whole  heart.  If  well  principled 
and  instructed,  they  try  to  keep  themselves  under  control, 
but  they  still  do  a  thousand  ensnaring  things,  for  no  other 


104  MY  WIFE   AND  I 

reason,  that  I  can  see,  than  that  it  is  their  nature,  and 
they  cannot  help  it.  If  they  have  less  principle  this  fac 
ulty  becomes  their  available  power,  by  which  they  can  take 
possession  of  all  that  a  man  has,  and  use  it  to  carry  their 
own  plans  and  purposes. 

Of  this  power,  whatever  it  may  be,  Caroline  had  no 
thing;  nay,  more,  she  despised  it,  and  received  the  admira 
tion  and  attentions  which  her  beauty  drew  from  the  oppo 
site  sex  with  a  coldness,  in  some  instances  amounting  to 
incivility. 

With  me  she  had  been  from  the  first  so  frankly,  cheer 
fully,  and  undisguisedly  affectionate  and  kind,  and  with 
such  a  straightforward  air  of  comradeship  and  a  literal 
ignoring  of  everything  sentimental,  that  the  very  ground 
of  anything  like  love-making  did  not  seem  to  exist  between 
us.  The  last  evening  before  I  was  to  leave  for  my  voyage 
to  Europe  I  spent  with  her,  and  she  gave  me  a  curiously 
wrought  traveling- case,  in  which  there  was  a  pocket  for  any 
imaginable  thing  that  a  bachelor  might  be  supposed  to 
want  on  his  travels. 

"I  wish  I  could  go  with  you,"  she  said  to  me,  with  an 
energy  quite  out  of  her  usual  line. 

"I  am  sure  I  wish  you  could,"  said  I;  and  what  with 
the  natural  softness  of  heart  that  a  young  man  feels  when 
he  is  plunging  off  from  the  safe  ground  of  home  into  the 
world,  and  partly  from  the  unwonted  glow  of  feeling  that 
came  over  Caroline's  face  as  she  spoke,  I  felt  quite  a  rush 
of  emotion,  and  said,  as  I  kissed  her  hand,  "Why  didn't 
we  think  of  this  before,  Caroline  1  " 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Harry;  don't  you  be  sentimental,  of  all 
things,"  she  replied  briskly,  withdrawing  her  hand.  "Of 
course,  I  didn't  mean  anything  more  than  that  I  wished  I 
was  a  young  fellow  like  you,  free  to  take  my  staff  and  bun 
dle,  and  make  my  way  in  the  great  world.  Why  couldn't 
I  be?" 


COUSIN   CAROLINE  105 

"  You,"  said  I,  "Caroline,  you,  with  your  beauty  and 
your  talents,  —  I  think  you  might  be  satisfied  with  a 
woman's  lot  in  life." 

"A  woman's  lot!  and  what  is  that,  pray?  to  sit  with 
folded  hands  and  see  life  drifting  by  —  to  be  a  mere  nul 
lity,  and  endure  to  have  my  good  friends  pat  me  on  the 
back,  and  think  I  am  a  bright  and  shining  light  of  content 
ment  in  woman's  sphere? " 

"But,"  said  I,  "you  know,  Caroline,  that  there  is  al 
ways  a  possibility  in  woman's  destiny,  especially  a  woman 
so  beautiful  as  you  are." 

"You  mean  marriage.  Well,  perhaps  if  I  could  do  as 
you  can,  go  all  over  the  world,  examine  and  search  for  the 
one  I  want,  and  find  him,  the  case  would  be  somewhat 
equal;  but  my  chances  are  only  among  those  who  propose 
to  me.  Now,  I  have  read  in  the  '  Arabian  Nights  '  of  prin 
cesses  so  beautiful  that  men  came  in  regiments,  to  seek  the 
honor  of  their  hand;  but  such  things  don't  occur  in  our 
times  in  New  England  villages.  My  list  for  selection 
must  be  confined  to  such  of  the  eligible  men  in  this  neigh 
borhood  as  are  in  want  of  wives;  men  who  want  wives  as 
they  do  cooking-stoves,  and  make  up  their  minds  that  I 
may  suit  them.  By  the  bye,  I  have  been  informed  already 
of  one  who  has  had  me  under  consideration,  and  concluded 
not  to  take  me.  Silas  Boardman,  I  understand,  has  made 
up  his  mind,  and  informed  his  sisters  of  the  fact,  that  I 
am  altogether  too  dressy  in  my  taste  for  his  limited  means, 
and  besides  that  I  am  too  free  and  independent;  so  that 
door  is  closed  to  me,  you  '11  observe.  Silas  won't  have 
me!" 

"The  conceited  puppy!  "  said  I. 

"Well,  isn't  that  the  common  understanding  among 
men  —  that  all  the  marriageable  girls  in  their  neighborhood 
are  on  exhibition  for  their  convenience  1  If  the  very  first 
idea  of  marriage  with  any  one  of  them  were  not  so  intensely 


106  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

disagreeable  to  me,  I  would  almost  be  willing  to  let  some 
of  them  ask  me,  just  to  hear  what  I  could  tell  them.  Now 
you  know,  Harry,  I  put  you  out  of  the  case,  because  you 
are  my  cousin,  and  I  no  more  think  of  you  in  that  way 
than  if  you  were  my  brother,  but,  frankly,  I  never  yet  saw 
the  man  that  I  could  by  any  stretch  of  imagination  conceive 
of  my  wanting,  or  being  willing  to  marry;  I  know  no  man 
that  it  wouldn't  be  an  untold  horror  to  me  to  be  doomed 
to  marry.  I  would  rather  scrub  floors  on  my  knees  for  a 
living. " 

"But  you  do  see  happy  marriages." 

"  Oh  yes,  dear  souls,  of  course  I  do,  and  am  glad  of  it, 
and  wonder  and  admire;  yes,  I  see  some  happy  marriages. 
There  's  Uncle  Jacob  and  his  wife,  kind  old  souls,  two 
dear  old  pigeons  of  the  sanctuary !  —  how  charmingly  they 
get  along !  and  your  father  and  mother  —  they  seemed  one 
soul;  it  really  was  encouraging  to  see  that  people  could 
live  so." 

"But  you  must  n't  be  too  ideal,  Caroline;  you  must  n't 
demand  too  much  of  a  man." 

"Demand?  I  don't  demand  anything  of  any  man,  I 
only  want  to  be  let  alone.  I  don't  want  to  wait  for  a  hus 
band  to  make  me  a  position,  I  want  to  make  one  for  myself ; 
I  don't  want  to  take  a  husband's  money,  I  want  my  own. 
You  have  individual  ideas  of  life,  you  want  to  work  them 
out;  so  have  I;  you  are  expected  and  encouraged  to  work 
them  out  independently,  while  I  am  forbidden.  Now, 
what  would  you  say  if  somebody  told  you  to  sit  down 
quietly  in  the  domestic  circle  and  read  to  your  mother, 
and  keep  the  wood  split  and  piled,  and  the  hearth  swept, 
and  diffuse  a  sweet  perfume  of  domestic  goodness,  like  the 
violet  amid  its  leaves,  till  by  and  by  some  woman  should 
come  and  give  you  a  fortune  and  position,  and  develop 
your  affections,  — how  would  you  like  that?  Now,  the 
case  with  me  is  just  here.  I  am,  if  you  choose  to  say  it, 


COUSIN   CAROLINE  107 

so  ideal  and  peculiar  in  my  views  that  there  is  no  reason 
able  prospect  that  I  shall  ever  marry,  but  I  want  a  posi 
tion,  a  house  and  home  of  my  own,  and  a  sphere  of  inde 
pendent  action,  and  everybody  thinks  this  absurd  and 
nobody  helps  me.  As  long  as  mother  was  alive  there  was 
some  consolation  in  feeling  that  I  was  everything  to  her. 
Poor  soul !  she  had  a  hard  life,  and  I  was  her  greatest  pride 
and  comfort,  but  now  she  is  gone  there  is  nothing  I  do  for 
my  father  that  a  good,  smart  housekeeper  could  not  be 
hired  to  do;  but  you  see  that  would  cost  money,  and  the 
money  that  I  thus  save  is  invested  without  consulting  me; 
it  goes  to  buy  more  rocky  land,  when  we  have  already 
more  than  we  know  what  to  do  with.  I  sacrifice  all  my 
tastes,  I  stunt  my  growth  mentally  and  intellectually  to 
this  daily  treadmill  of  house  and  dairy,  and  yet  I  have  not 
a  cent  that  I  can  call  my  own;  I  am  a  servant  working  for 
board  and  clothes,  and  because  I  am  a  daughter  I  am  ex 
pected  to  do  it  cheerfully ;  my  only  escape  from  this  posi 
tion  is  to  take  a  similar  one  in  the  family  of  some  man  to 
whom,  in  addition  to  the  superintendence  of  his  household, 
I  shall  owe  the  personal  duties  of  a  wife,  and  that  way  out 
you  may  know  I  shall  never  take.  So  you  are  sure  to  find 
me  ten  or  twenty  years  hence  a  fixture  in  this  neighbor 
hood,  spoken  of  familiarly  as  '  old  Miss  Caroline  Simmons, ' 
a  cross-pious  old  maid,  held  up  as  a  warning  to  contuma 
cious  young  beauties  how  they  neglect  their  first  gracious 
offer.  '  Caroline  was  a  handsome  gal  in  her  time,'  they  '11 
say,  *  but  she  was  too  perticklar,  and  now  her  day  is  over 
and  she  's  left  an  old  maid.  She  held  her  head  too  high 
and  said  "No"  a  little  too  often;  ye  see,  gals  better  take 
their  fust  chances. ' ? 

"After  all,  cousin,"  I  said,  "though  we  men  are  all  un 
worthy  sinners,  yet  sometimes  you  women  do  yield  to 
much  persuasion,  and  take  some  one  out  of  pity." 

"I  can't  do  that;  in  fact,  I  have  tried  to  do  it,  and 


108  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

can't.  This  desperate  dullness,  and  restraint,  and  utter 
paralysis  of  progress  that  lies  like  a  nightmare  on  one,  is 
a  dreadful  temptation;  when  a  man  offers  you  a  fortune, 
which  will  give  you  ease,  leisure,  and  power  to  follow  all 
your  tastes  and  a  certain  independent  stand,  such  as  unmar 
ried  women  cannot  take,  it  is  a  great  temptation." 

"  But  you  resisted  it !  " 

"Well,  I  was  sorely  tried;  there  were  things  I  wanted 
desperately  —  a  splendid  house  in  Boston,  pictures,  car 
riages,  servants,  —  oh,  I  did  want  them ;  I  wanted  the 
eclat,  too,  of  a  rich  marriage,  but  I  couldn't;  the  man  was 
too  good  a  man  to  be  trifled  with;  if  he  would  only  have 
been  a  good  uncle  or  grandpa  I  would  have  loved  him 
dearly,  and  been  ever  so  devoted,  kept  his  house  beauti 
fully,  waited  on  him  like  a  dutiful  daughter,  read  to  him, 
sung  to  him,  nursed  him,  been  the  best  friend  in  the  world 
to  him,  but  his  wife  I  could  not  be;  the  very  idea  of  it 
made  the  worthy  creature  perfectly  repulsive  and  hateful 
to  me." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  to  tell  your  father  how  you  feel  1  " 

"  Of  what  earthly  use  1  There  are  people  in  this  world 
who  don't  understand  each  other's  vernacular.  Papa  and 
I  could  no  more  discuss  any  question  of  the  inner  life  to 
gether  than  if  he  spoke  Chickasaw  and  I  spoke  French. 
Papa  has  a  respect  for  my  practical  efficiency  and  business 
talent,  and  in  a  certain  range  of  ideas  we  get  on  well  to 
gether.  He  thinks  I  have  made  a  great  mistake,  and  that 
there  is  a  crack  in  my  head  somewhere,  but  he  says  no 
thing;  his  idea  is  that  I  have  let  slip  the  only  chance  of 
my  life,  but  still,  as  I  am  a  great  convenience  at  home, 
he  is  reconciled.  I  suppose  all  my  friends  mourn  in  secret 
places  over  me,  and  I  should  have  been  applauded  and 
commended  on  all  hands  if  I  had  done  it;  but,  after  all, 
wouldn't  it  be  a  great  deal  more  honest,  more  womanly, 
more  like  a  reasonable  creature,  for  me  to  do  just  what  you 


COUSIN   CAROLINE  109 

are  doing,  fit  myself  to  make  my  own  way,  and  make  an 
independence  for  myself?  Keally,  it  isn't  honest  to  take 
a  position  where  you  know  you  can't  give  the  main  thing 
asked  for,  and  keep  out  somebody  perhaps  who  can.  My 
friend  has  made  himself  happy  with  a  woman  who  perfectly 
adores  him,  and  ought  to  be  much  obliged  to  me  that  I 
didn't  take  him  at  his  word;  good,  silly  soul  that  he  was." 

"  But,  after  all,  the  Prince  may  come  —  the  fated  knight 
—  Caroline. " 

"And  deliver  the  distressed  damsel?"  she  said,  laugh 
ing.  "Well,  when  he  comes  I'll  show  him  my  'swan's 
nest  among  the  reeds. '  Soberly,  the  fact  is,  cousin, "  she 
said,  "you  men  don't  know  us  women.  In  the  first  place 
they  say  that  there  are  more  of  us  born  than  there  are  of 
you:  and  that  doesn't  happen  merely  to  give  you  a  good 
number  to  choose  from,  and  enable  every  widower  to  find 
a  supernumerary;  it  is  because  it  was  meant  that  some 
women  should  lead  a  life  different  from  the  domestic  one. 
The  womanly  nature  can  be  of  use  otherwhere  besides  in 
marriage,  in  our  world.  To  be  sure,  for  the  largest  class 
of  women  there  is  nothing  like  marriage,  and  I  suppose  the 
usages  of  society  are  made  for  the  majority,  and  exceptional 
people  mustn't  grumble  if  they  don't  find  things  comforta 
ble  ;  but  I  am  persuaded  that  there  is  a  work  and  a  way 
for  those  who  cannot  marry." 

"Well,  there  's  Uncle  Jacob  has  just  been  preaching  to  me 
that  no  man  can  be  developed  fully  without  a  wife, "  said  I. 

"Uncle  Jacob  has  matrimony  on  the  brain!  it's  lucky 
he  is  n't  a  despotic  Czar,  or,  I  believe,  he  'd  marry  all  the 
men  and  women,  willy  nilly.  I  grant  that  the  rare,  real 
marriage,  that  occurs  one  time  in  a  hundred,  is  the  true 
ideal  state  for  man  and  woman,  but  it  doesn't  follow  that 
all  and  everything  that  brings  man  and  woman  together  in 
marriage  is  blessed,  and  I  take  my  stand  on  St.  Paul's  doc 
trine  that  there  are  both  men  and  women  called  to  some 


110  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

higher  state ;  now,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  number  of  these 
increases  with  the  advancement  of  society.  Marriage  re 
quires  so  close  an  intimacy  that  there  must  be  perfect  agree 
ment  and  sympathy;  the  lower  down  in  the  scale  of  being 
one  is,  the  fewer  distinctive  points  there  are  of  difference 
or  agreement.  It  is  easier  for  John  and  Patrick,  and 
Bridget  and  Katy,  to  find  comfortable  sympathy  and  agree 
ment  than  it  is  for  those  far  up  in  the  scale  of  life  where 
education  has  developed  a  thousand  individual  tastes  and 
peculiarities.  We  read  in  history  of  the  Rape  of  the 
Sabines,  and  how  the  women  thus  carried  off  at  haphazard 
took  so  kindly  to  their  husbands  that  they  would  n't  be 
taken  back  again.  Such  things  are  only  possible  in  the 
barbarous  stages  of  society,  when  characters  are  very  rudi 
mentary  and  simple.  If  a  similar  experiment  were  made 
on  women  of  the  cultivated  classes  in  our  times,  I  fancy 
some  of  the  men  would  be  killed ;  I  know  one  would, "  — 
she  said,  with  an  energetic  grasp  of  her  little  fist  and  a 
flash  out  of  her  eyes. 

"But  the  ideal  marriage  is  the  thing  to  be  sought," 
said  I. 

"For  you,  who  are  born  with  the  right  to  seek,  it  is  the 
thing  to  be  sought,"  she  said;  "for  me,  who  am  born  to 
wait  till  I  am  sought  by  exactly  the  right  one,  the  chances 
are  so  infinitesimal  that  they  ought  not  to  be  considered; 
I  may  have  a  fortune  left  me,  and  die  a  millionaire;  there 
is  no  actual  impossibility  in  that  thing's  happening, — it 
is  a  thing  that  has  happened  to  people  who  expected  it  as 
little  as  I  do,  —  but  it  would  be  the  height  of  absurdity  to 
base  any  calculation  upon  it:  and  yet  all  the  arrangements 
that  are  made  about  me  and  for  me  are  made  on  the  pre 
sumption  that  I  am  to  marry.  I  went  to  Uncle  Jacob  and 
tried  to  get  him  to  take  me  through  a  course  of  medical 
study,  to  fit  me  for  a  professional  life,  and  it  was  impossi 
ble  to  get  him  to  take  any  serious  view  of  it,  or  to  believe 


COUSIN  CAROLINE  111 

what  I  said;  he  seemed  really  to  think  I  was  plotting  to 
upset  the  Bible  and  the  Constitution,  in  planning  for  an 
independent  life.'7 

"After  all,  Caroline,  you  must  pardon  me  if  I  say  that 
it  does  not  seem  possible  that  a  woman  like  you  will  be 
allowed  —  that  is,  you  know  —  you  will  —  well  —  find 
somebody  —  that  is,  you  will  be  less  exacting  by  and  by. " 

"Exacting!  why  do  you  use  that  word,  when  I  don't 
exact  anything?  I  am  not  so  very  ideal  in  my  tastes,  I 
am  only  individual;  I  must  have  in  myself  a  certain  feel 
ing  towards  this  possible  individual,  and  I  don't  find  it. 
In  one  case  certainly  I  asked  myself  why  I  did  n't.  The 
man  was  all  he  should  be,  I  didn't  object  to  him  in  the 
slightest  degree  as  a  man;  but  looked  on  respecting  the 
marriage  relation,  he  was  simply  intolerable.  It  must  be 
that  I  have  no  vocation  to  marry,  and  yet  I  want  what  any 
live  woman  wants;  I  want  something  of  my  own;  I  want 
a  life-work  worth  doing;  I  want  a  home  of  my  own;  I 
want  money  that  I  can  use  as  I  please,  that  I  can  give  and 
withhold,  and  dispose  of  as  absolutely  mine,  and  not  an 
other's;  and  the  world  seems  all  arranged  so  as  to  hinder 
my  getting  it.  If  a  man  wants  to  get  an  education  there 
are  colleges  with  rich  foundations,  where  endowments  have 
been  heaped  up,  and  scholarships  founded,  to  enable  him 
to  prepare  for  life  at  reasonable  expense.  There  are  no 
such  for  women,  and  their  schools,  such  as  they  are,  infi 
nitely  poorer  than  those  given  to  men,  involve  double  the 
expense.  If  you  ask  a  professional  man  to  teach  you  pri 
vately,  he  laughs  at  you,  compliments  you,  and  sends  you 
away  with  the  feeling  that  he  considers  you  a  silly,  cracked- 
brain  girl,  or  perhaps  an  unsuccessful  angler  in  matrimonial 
waters;  he  seems  to  think  that  there  is  no  use  teaching 
you,  because  you  will  throw  down  all,  and  run  for  the  first 
man  that  beckons  to  you.  That  sort  of  presumption  is  in 
sufferable  to  me." 


112  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

"Oh,  well,  Carrie,  you  know  those  old  doctors,  they 
get  a  certain  jog-trot  way  of  arranging  human  life;  and 
then  men  that  are  happily  married  are  in  such  bliss,  and 
such  women-worshipers  that  they  cannot  make  up  their 
mind  that  anybody  they  care  about  should  not  enter  their 
paradise." 

"I  do  not  despise  their  paradise,"  said  Caroline;  "I 
think  everybody  most  happy  that  can  enter  it.  I  am  thank 
ful  to  see  that  they  can.  I  am  delighted  and  astonished 
every  day  at  beholding  the  bliss  and  satisfaction  with  which 
really  nice,  pretty  girls  take  up  with  the  men  they  do,  and 
I  think  it  all  very  delightful;  but  it 's  rather  hard  on  me 
that,  since  I  can't  have  that,  I  mustn't  have  anything 
else. " 

"After  all,  Caroline,  is  not  your  dissatisfaction  with  the 
laws  of  nature  ?  " 

"Not  exactly;  I  won't  quarrel  with  the  will  that  made 
me  a  woman,  not  in  my  deepest  heart.  Neither  being  a 
woman  do  I  want  to  be  unwomanly.  I  would  not,  if  I 
could,  do  as  George  Sand  did,  put  on  men's  clothes  and 
live  a  man's  life.  Anything  of  that  sort  in  a  woman  is 
very  repulsive  and  disgusting  to  me.  At  the  same  time, 
I  do  think  that  the  customs  and  laws  of  society  might  be 
modified  so  as  to  give  to  women  who  do  not  choose  to 
marry,  independent  position  and  means  of  securing  home 
and  fortune.  Marriage  never  ought  to  be  entered  on  as 
a  means  of  support.  It  seems  to  me  that  our  sex  are 
enough  weighted  by  nature,  and  that  therefore  all  the  laws 
and  institutions  of  society  ought  to  act  in  just  the  contrary 
direction,  and  tend  to  hold  us  up  —  to  widen  our  way,  to 
encourage  our  efforts,  because  we  are  the  weaker  party,  and 
need  it  most.  The  world  is  now  arranged  for  the  strong, 
and  I  think  it  ought  to  be  rearranged  for  the  weak." 

I  paused,  and  pondered  all  that  she  had  been  saying. 

"  My  mother  "  —  I  began. 


COUSIN   CAROLINE  113 

"Now,  please  don't  quote  your  mother  to  me.  I  know 
what  she  would  say.  If  two  angels  were  sent  down  from 
heaven,  the  one  to  govern  an  empire,  and  the  other  to 
sweep  the  streets,  they  would  not  wish  to  change  with  each 
other;  it  is  perhaps  true. 

"But  then,  you  see,  that  is  only  possible  because  they 
are  angels.  Your  mother  has  got  up  somewhere  into  that 
region,  but  I  am  down  in  the  low  lands,  and  must  do  the 
best  I  can  on  my  plane.  I  can  conceive  of  those  moral 
heights  where  one  thing  is  just  as  agreeable  as  another,  but 
I  have  not  yet  reached  them.  Besides,  you  know  Jacob 
wrestled  with  his  angel,  and  was  commended  for  it;  and 
I  think  we  ought  to  satisfy  ourselves  by  good,  strong  effort 
that  our  lot  is  of  God.  If  we  really  cannot  help  ourselves, 
we  may  be  resigned  to  it  as  his  will." 

"Caroline,"  I  said,  "if  you  might  have  exactly  what 
you  want,  what  would  it  have  been  1  " 

"In  the  first  place,  then,  exactly  the  same  education 
with  my  brothers.  I  hear  of  colleges  now,  somewhere  far 
out  West,  where  a  brother  and  sister  may  go  through  the 
same  course  together;  that  would  have  suited  me.  I  am 
impatient  of  half-education.  I  am  by  nature  very  thorough 
and  exact.  I  want  to  be  sure  of  doing  whatever  I  under 
take  as  well  as  it  can  be  done.  I  don't  want  to  be  flat 
tered  and  petted  for  pretty  ignorance.  I  don't  want  to  be 
tolerated  in  any  halfway,  slovenly  work  of  any  kind  be 
cause  I  am  a  woman.  When  I  have  a  thorough  general 
education,  I  then  want  to  make  professional  studies.  I  have 
a  great  aptitude  for  medicine.  I  have  a  natural  turn  for 
the  care  of  sick,  and  am  now  sent  for  far  and  near  as  one 
of  the  best  advisers  and  watchers  in  case  of  sickness.  In 
that  profession  I  don't  doubt  I  might  do  great  good,  be 
very  happy,  have  a  cheerful  home  of  my  own,  and  a  plea 
sant  life-work;  but  I  don't  want  to  enter  it  half  taught. 
I  want  to  be  able  to  do  as  good  work  as  any  man's;  to  be 


114  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

held  to  the  same  account,  and  receive  only  what  I  can 
fairly  win." 

"But,  Caroline,  a  man's  life  includes  so  much  drudgery." 

"  And  does  not  mine  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  the  care  of 
all  the  house  and  dairy,  the  oversight  of  all  my  father's 
home  affairs,  is  no  drudgery?  Much  of  it  is  done  with 
my  own  hands,  because  no  other  work  than  mine  can  con 
tent  me.  But  when  you  and  I  went  to  school  together,  it 
was  just  so:  you  know  I  worked  out  my  own  problems  and 
made  my  own  investigations.  Now,  all  that  is  laid  aside; 
at  least,  all  my  efforts  are  so  haphazard  and  painfully  in 
complete  that  it  is  discouraging  to  me." 

"  But  would  not  your  father  consent  ?  " 

"My  father  is  a  man  wedded  to  the  past,  and  set  against 
every  change  in  ideas.  I  have  tried  to  get  his  consent  to 
let  me  go  and  study,  and  prepare  myself  to  do  something 
worth  doing,  but  he  is  perfectly  immovable.  He  says  I 
know  more  now  than  half  the  women,  and  a  great  deal  too 
much  for  my  good,  and  that  he  cannot  spare  me.  At 
twenty-one  he  makes  no  further  claim  on  any  of  my  bro 
thers;  their  minority  comes  to  an  end  at  a  certain  period 
—  mine,  never." 

We  were  walking  in  the  moonlight  up  and  down  under 
the  trees  by  the  house.  Caroline  suddenly  stopped. 

"Cousin,"  she  said,  "if  you  succeed,  if  you  get  to  be 
what  I  hope  you  will,  — high  in  the  world,  a  prosperous 
editor,  —  speak  for  the  dumb,  for  us  whose  lives  burn  them 
selves  out  into  white  ashes  in  silence  and  repression." 

"I  will,"  I  said. 

"You  will  write  to  me;  I  shall  rejoice  to  hear  of  the 
world  through  you;  and  I  shall  rejoice  in  your  success," 
she  added. 

"Caroline,"  I  said,  "do  you  give  up  entirely  wrestling 
with  the  angel  1 " 

"No;  if  I  did,   I  should  not  keep  up.     I  have   hope 


COUSIN    CAROLINE  115 

from  year  to  year  that  something  may  happen  to  bring 
things  to  my  wishes;  that  I  may  obtain  a  hearing  with 
papa;  that  his  sense  of  justice  may  be  aroused;  that  I  may 
get  Uncle  Jacob  to  do  something  besides  recite  verses  and 
compliment  me;  that  your  mother  may  speak  for  me." 

"You  have  never  told  your  heart  to  my  mother? " 

"No;  I  am  very  reticent,  and  these  adoring  wives  have 
but  one  recipe  for  all  our  troubles." 

"I  think,  Caroline,  that  hers  is  a  wide,  free  nature, 
that  takes  views  above  the  ordinary  level  of  things,  and 
that  she  would  understand  and  might  work  for  you.  Tell 
her  what  you  have  been  telling  me." 

"You  may,  if  you  please.  I  will  talk  with  her  after 
ward;  perhaps  she  will  do  something  for  me." 


CHAPTER   X 
WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER 

THE  next  day  I  spoke  to  my  Uncle  Jacob  of  Caroline's 
desire  to  study,  and  said  that  some  way  ought  to  be  pro 
vided  for  taking  her  out  of  her  present  confined  limits. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  shrewd,  quizzical  expression, 
and  said:  "Providence  generally  opens  a  way  out  for  girls 
as  handsome  as  she  is.  Caroline  is  a  little  restless  just  at 
present,  and  so  is  getting  some  of  these  modern  strong- 
minded  notions  into  her  head.  The  fact  is,  that  our  region 
is  a  little  too  much  out  of  the  world;  there  is  nobody 
around  here,  probably,  that  she  would  think  a  suitable 
match  for  her.  Caroline  ought  to  visit,  now,  and  cruise 
about  a  little  in  some  of  the  watering-places  next  summer, 
and  be  seen.  There  are  few  girls  with  a  finer  air,  or  more 
sure  to  make  a  sensation.  I  fancy  she  would  soon  find  the 
right  sphere  under  these  circumstances." 

"  But  does  it  not  occur  to  you,  uncle,  that  the  very  idea 
of  going  out  into  the  world,  seeking  to  attract  and  fall  in 
the  way  of  offers  of  marriage,  is  one  from  which  such  a 
spirit  as  Caroline's  must  revolt?  Is  there  not  something 
essentially  unwomanly  in  it  —  something  humiliating  ?  I 
know,  myself,  that  she  is  too  proud,  too  justly  self-respect 
ing,  to  do  it.  And  why  should  a  superior  woman  be  con 
demned  to  smother  her  whole  nature,  to  bind  down  all  her 
faculties,  and  ivait  for  occupation  in  a  sphere  which  it  is 
unwomanly  to  seek  directly,  and  unwomanly  to  accept 
when  offered  to  her,  unless  offered  by  the  one  of  a  thou 
sand  for  whom  she  can  have  a  certain  feeling  ? " 


WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER  117 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  said  my  uncle,  looking  at  me  again, 
"I  always  thought  in  my  heart  that  Caroline  was  just  the 
proper  person  for  you  — just  the  woman  you  need  —  brave, 
strong,  and  yet  lovely;  and  I  don't  see  any  objection  in 
the  way  of  your  taking  her." 

Elderly  people  of  a  benevolent  turn  often  get  a  matter- 
of-fact  way  of  arranging  the  affairs  of  their  juniors  that  is 
sufficiently  amusing.  My  uncle  spoke  with  a  confidential 
air  of  good  faith  of  my  taking  Caroline  as  if  she  had  been 
a  lot  of  land  up  for  sale.  Seeing  my  look  of  blank  embar 
rassment,  he  went  on :  — 

"You  perhaps  think  the  relationship  an  objection,  but 
I  have  my  own  views  on  that  subject.  The  only  objection 
to  the  intermarriage  of  cousins  is  one  that  depends  entirely 
on  similarity  of  race  peculiarities.  Sometimes  cousins, 
inheriting  each  from  different  races,  are  physiologically  as 
much  of  diverse  blood  as  if  their  parents  had  not  been  re 
lated,  and  in  that  case  there  is  n't  the  slightest  objection 
to  marriage.  Now,  Caroline,  though  her  father  is  your 
mother's  brother,  inherits  evidently  the  Selwyn  blood. 
She  's  all  her  mother,  or  rather  her  grandmother,  who  was 
a  celebrated  beauty.  Caroline  is  a  Selwyn,  every  inch,  and 
you  are  as  free  to  marry  her  as  any  woman  you  can  meet." 

"You  talk  as  if  she  were  a  golden  apple,  that  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  reach  forth  my  hand  to  pick,"  said  I. 
"Did  it  never  occur  to  you  that  I  couldn't  take  her  if  I 
were  to  try  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Uncle  Jacob,  looking  me 
over  in  a  manner  which  indicated  a  complimentary  opinion. 
"I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  She  's  not  in  the  way  of  seeing 
many  men  superior  to  you." 

"And  suppose  that  she  were  that  sort  of  woman  who 
did  not  wish  to  marry  at  all  ? "  said  I. 

My  uncle  looked  quizzical,  and  said,  "I  doubt  the  exist 
ence  of  that  species. " 


118  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

"It  appears  to  me,"  said  I,  "that  Caroline  is  by  nature 
so  much  more  fitted  for  the  life  of  a  scholar  than  that 
of  an  ordinary  domestic  woman,  that  nothing  but  a  most 
absorbing  and  extraordinary  amount  of  personal  affection 
would  ever  make  the  routine  of  domestic  life  agreeable  to 
her.  She  is  very  fastidious  and  individual  in  her  tastes, 
too,  and  the  probabilities  of  her  finding  the  person  whom 
she  could  love  in  this  manner  are  very  small.  Now,  it 
appears  to  me  that  the  taking  for  granted  that  all  women, 
without  respect  to  taste  or  temperament,  must  have  no 
sphere  or  opening  for  their  faculties  except  domestic  life 
is  as  great  an  absurdity  in  our  modern  civilization  as  the 
stupid  custom  of  half-civilized  nations,  by  which  every 
son,  no  matter  what  his  character,  is  obliged  to  confine 
himself  to  the  trade  of  his  father.  I  should  have  felt  it  a 
hardship  to  be  condemned  always  to  be  a  shoemaker  if  my 
father  had  been  one." 

"Nay,"  said  my  uncle,  "the  cases  are  not  parallel.  The 
domestic  sphere  of  wife  and  mother  to  which  woman  is 
called  is  divine  and  godlike;  it  is  sacred  and  solemn,  and 
no  woman  can  go  higher  than  that,  and  anything  else  to 
which  she  devotes  herself  falls  infinitely  below  it." 

"Well,  then,"  said  I,  "let  me  use  another  simile.  My 
father  was  a  minister,  and  I  reverence  and  almost  adore 
the  ideal  of  such  a  minister,  and  such  a  ministry  as  his 
was.  Yet  it  would  be  an  oppression  on  me  to  constrain 
me  to  enter  into  it.  I  am  not  adapted  to  it,  or  fitted  for 
it.  I  should  make  a  failure  in  it,  while  I  might  succeed 
in  a  lower  sphere.  Now,  it  seems  to  me  that  just  as  no 
one  should  enter  the  ministry  as  a  means  of  support  or 
worldly  position,  but  wholly  from  a  divine  enthusiasm,  so 
no  woman  should  enter  marriage  for  provision,  or  station, 
or  support;  but  simply  and  only  from  the  most  purely 
personal  affection.  And  my  theory  of  life  would  be,  to 
have  society  so  arranged  that  independent  woman  shall 


WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER  119 

have  every  facility  for  developing  her  mind  and  perfecting 
herself  that  independent  man  has,  and  every  opportunity 
in  society  for  acquiring  and  holding  property,  for  securing 
influence,  and  position,  and  fame,  just  as  man  can.  If 
laws  are  to  make  any  difference  between  the  two  sexes, 
they  ought  to  help,  and  not  to  hinder  the  weaker  party. 
Then,  I  think,  a  man  might  feel  that  his  wife  came  to  him 
from  the  purest  and  highest  kind  of  love  —  not  driven  to 
him  as  a  refuge,  not  compelled  to  take  him  as  a  dernier 
ressort,  now  struggling  and  striving  to  bring  her  mind  to 
him,  because  she  must  marry  somebody,  —  but  choosing 
him  intelligently  and  freely,  because  he  is  the  one  more  to 
her  than  all  the  world  beside." 

"Well,"  said  my  uncle  regretfully,  "of  course  I  don't 
want  to  be  a  match- maker,  but  I  did  hope  that  you  and 
Caroline  would  be  so  agreed;  and  I  think  now,  that  if  you 
would  try,  you  might  put  these  notions  out  of  her  head, 
and  put  yourself  in  their  place." 

"And  what  if  I  had  tried,  and  become  certain  that  it 
was  of  no  use  1 " 

"You  don't  say  she  has  refused  you!"  said  my  uncle, 
with  a  start. 

"  No,  indeed !  "  said  I.  "  Caroline  is  one  of  those  wo 
men  whose  whole  manner  keeps  off  entirely  all  approaches 
of  that  kind.  You  may  rely  upon  it,  uncle,  that  while 
she  loves  me  as  frankly  and  truly  and  honestly  as  ever 
sister  loved  a  brother,  yet  I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  it 
is  mainly  because  I  have  kept  myself  clear  of  any  misun 
derstanding  of  her  noble  frankness,  or  any  presumption 
founded  upon  it.  Her  love  to  me  is  honest  comradeship, 
just  such  as  I  might  have  from  a  college  mate,  and  there  is 
not  the  least  danger  of  its  sliding  into  anything  else. 
There  may  be  an  Endymion  to  this  Diana,  but  it  certainly 
won't  be  Harry  Henderson." 

"H'm!"  said  my  uncle.      "Well,  I'm  afraid  then  that 


120  MY    WIFE   AND   I 

she  never  will  marry,  and  you  certainly  must  grant  that  a 
woman  unmarried  remains  forever  undeveloped  and  incom 
plete." 

"No  more  than  a  man,"  said  I.  "A  man  who  never 
becomes  a  father  is  incomplete  in  one  great  resemblance  to 
the  Divine  Being.  Yet  there  have  been  men  with  the 
element  of  fatherhood  more  largely  developed  in  celibacy 
than  is  usual  in  marriage.  There  was  Fenelon,  for  in 
stance,  who  was  married  to  humanity.  Every  human 
being  that  he  met  held  the  place  of  a  child  in  his  heart. 
No  individual  experience  of  fatherhood  could  make  such 
men  as  he  more  fatherly.  And  in  like  manner  there  are 
women  with  more  natural  motherhood  than  many  mothers. 
Such  are  to  be  found  in  the  sisterhoods  that  gather  to 
gether  lost  and  orphan  children,  and  are  their  mothers  in 
God.  There  are  natures  who  do  not  need  the  development 
of  marriage;  they  know  instinctively  all  it  can  teach  them. 
But  they  are  found  only  in  the  rarest  and  highest  regions. " 

"Well,"  said  my  uncle,  "for  every  kind  of  existence  in 
creation  God  has  made  a  mate,  and  the  eagles  that  live  on 
mountain-tops,  and  fly  toward  the  sun,  have  still  their 
kindred  eagles.  Now,  I  think,  for  my  part,  that  if  Fdne- 
lon  had  married  Madame  Guyon,  he  would  have  had  a 
richer  and  a  happier  life  of  it,  and  she  would  have  gone  off 
into  fewer  vagaries,  and  they  would  have  left  the  Church 
some  splendid  children,  who  might,  perhaps,  have  been 
born  without  total  depravity.  You  see,  these  perfected 
specimens  owe  it  to  humanity  to  perpetuate  their  kind." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "let  them  do  it  by  spiritual  fatherhood 
and  motherhood.  St.  Paul  speaks  often  of  his  converts  as 
those  begotten  of  him  —  the  children  of  his  soul ;  a  thou 
sandfold  more  of  them  there  were  than  there  could  have 
been  if  he  had  weighted  himself  with  the  care  of  an  indi 
vidual  family.  Think  of  the  spiritual  children  of  Plato 
and  St.  Augustine !  " 


WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER  121 

"This  may  be  all  very  fine,  youngster,"  said  my  uncle, 
"but  very  exceptional;  yet  for  all  that,  I  should  be  sorry 
to  see  a  fine  woman  like  Caroline  withering  into  an  old 
maid." 

"She  certainly  will,"  said  I,  "unless  you  and  mother 
stretch  forth  your  hands  and  give  her  liberty  to  seek  her 
destiny  in  the  mode  in  which  nature  inclines  her.  You 
will  never  get  her  to  go  husband-hunting.  The  mere  idea 
suggested  to  her  of  exhibiting  her  charms  in  places  of  re 
sort,  in  the  vague  hope  of  being  chosen,  would  be  sufficient 
to  keep  her  out  of  society.  She  has  one  of  those  indepen 
dent  natures  to  which  it  is  just  as  necessary  for  happiness 
that  she  should  make  her  own  way,  and  just  as  irksome  to 
depend  on  others,  as  it  is  for  most  young  men.  She  has 
a  fine  philosophic  mind,  great  powers  of  acquisition,  a  curi 
osity  for  scientific  research;  and  her  desire  is  to  fit  herself 
for  a  physician,  —  a  sphere  perfectly  womanly,  and  in 
which  the  motherly  nature  of  woman  can  be  most  beauti 
fully  developed.  Now,  help  her  with  your  knowledge 
through  the  introductory  stages  of  study,  and  use  your 
influence  afterward  to  get  her  father  to  give  her  wider 
advantages. " 

"Well,  the  fact  is,"  said  my  uncle,  "Caroline  is  a 
splendid  nurse ;  she  has  great  physical  strength  and  endur 
ance,  great  courage  and  presence  of  mind,  and  a  wonderful 
power  of  consoling  and  comforting  sick  people.  She  has 
borrowed  some  of  my  books,  and  seemed  to  show  a  consid 
erable  acuteness  in  her  remarks  on  them.  But  somehow 
the  idea  that  a  lovely  young  woman  should  devote  herself 
to  medicine  has  seemed  to  me  a  great  waste,  and  I  never 
seriously  encouraged  it." 

"Depend  upon  it,"  said  T,  "Caroline  is  a  woman  who 
will  become  more  charming  in  proportion  as  she  moves 
more  thoroughly  and  perfectly  in  the  sphere  for  which 
nature  has  adapted  her.  Keep  a  great,  stately,  white  swan 


122'  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

shut  up  in  a  barnyard  and  she  has  an  ungainly  gait,  be 
comes  morose,  and  loses  her  beautiful  feathers;  but  set  her 
free  to  glide  off  into  her  native  element  and  all  is  harmo 
nious  and  beautiful.  A  superior  woman,  gifted  with  per 
sonal  attractions,  who  is  forgetting  herself  in  the  enthusi 
asm  of  some  high  calling  or  profession,  never  becomes  an 
old  maid;  she  does  not  wither;  she  advances  as  life  goes 
on,  and  often  keeps  her  charms  longer  than  the  matron 
exhausted  by  family  cares  and  motherhood.  A  charming 
woman,  fully  and  happily  settled  and  employed  in  a  life- 
work  which  is  all  in  all  to  her,  is  far  more  likely  to  be 
attractive  and  to  be  sought  than  one  who  enters  the  ranks 
of  the  fashionable  waiters  on  Providence." 

"Well,  well,"  said  my  uncle,  "I'll  think  of  it.  The 
fact  is,  we  fellows  of  threescore  ought  to  be  knocked  on 
the  head  peaceably.  We  have  the  bother  of  being  progres 
sive  all  through  our  youth,  and  by  the  time  we  get  some 
thing  settled,  up  comes  your  next  generation  and  begins 
kicking  it  all  over.  It 's  too  bad  to  demolish  the  house  we 
spend  our  youth  in  building  just  when  we  want  rest,  and 
don't  want  the  fatigue  of  building  over." 

"For  that  matter,"  said  I,  "the  modern  ideas  of  wo 
man's  sphere  were  all  thought  out  and  expressed  in  the 
Greek  mythology  ages  and  ages  ago.  The  Greeks  didn't 
fit  every  woman  to  one  type.  There  was  their  pretty, 
plump  little  Aphrodite,  and  their  godlike  Venus  di  Milo. 
There  was  Diana,  the  woman  of  cold,  bright,  pure  physi 
cal  organization,  —  independent,  free,  vigorous.  There 
was  Minerva,  the  impersonation  of  the  purely  intellectual 
woman,  who  neither  wished  nor  sought  marriage.  There 
was  Juno,  the  housekeeper  and  domestic  queen,  and  Ceres, 
the  bread-giver  and  provider.  In  short,  the  Greeks  con 
ceived  a  variety  of  spheres  of  womanhood;  but  we,  in  mod 
ern  times,  have  reduced  all  to  one  —  the  vine  that  twines, 
and  the  violet  hid  in  the  leaves;  as  if  the  Victoria  Eegia 


WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER  123 

hadn't  as  good  a  right  to  grow  as  the  daisy,  and  as  if  there 
were  not  female  oaks  and  pines  as  well  as  male ! " 

"Well,  after  all,"  he  said,  "the  prevalent  type  of  sex 
through  nature  is  that  of  strength  for  man  and  dependence 
for  woman." 

"Nay,"  said  I;  "if  you  appeal  to  nature  in  this  matter 
of  sex,  there  is  the  female  element  in  grand  and  powerful 
forms,  as  well  as  in  gentle  and  dependent  ones.  The  she 
lion  and  tiger  are  more  terrible  and  untamable  than  the 
male.  The  Greek  mythology  was  a  perfect  reflection  of 
nature,  and  clothed  woman  with  majesty  and  power  as  well 
as  with  grace;  how  splendid  those  descriptions  of  Homer 
are,  where  Minerva,  clad  in  celestial  armor,  leads  the 
forces  of  the  Greeks  to  battle!  What  vigor  there  is  in 
their  impersonation  of  the  Diana;  the  woman  strong  in 
herself,  scorning  physical  passion,  and  terrible  to  approach 
in  the  radiant  majesty  of  her  beauty,  striking  with  death 
the  vulgar  curiosity  that  dared  to  profane  her  sanctuary! 
That  was  the  ideal  of  a  woman,  self-sufficient,  victorious, 
and  capable  of  a  grand,  free,  proud  life  of  her  own,  not 
needing  to  depend  upon  man.  The  Greeks  never  would 
have  imagined  such  goddesses  if  they  had  not  seen  such 
women,  and  our  modern  civilization  is  imperfect  if  it  does 
not  provide  a  place  and  sphere  for  such  types  of  woman 
hood.  It  takes  all  sorts  of  people  to  make  up  a  world, 
and  there  ought  to  be  provision,  toleration,  and  free  course 
for  all  sorts." 

"Well,  youngster,"  said  my  uncle,  "I  think  you'll 
write  tolerable  leaders  for  some  radical  paper,  one  of  these 
days,  but  you  fellows  that  want  to  get  into  the  chariot  of 
the  sun  and  drive  it,  had  better  think  a  little  before  you 
set  the  world  on  fire.  As  for  your  Diana,  I  thank  Heaven 
she  isn't  my  wife,  and  I  think  it  would  be  pretty  cold 
picking  with  your  Minerva." 

"Permit  me  to  say,  uncle,  that  in  this  '  latter-day  glory  ' 


124  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

that  is  coming,  men  have  got  to  learn  to  judge  women  by 
some  other  standard  than  what  would  make  good  wives  for 
them,  and  acknowledge  sometimes  a  femininity  existing  in 
and  for  itself.  As  there  is  a  possible  manhood  complete 
without  woman,  so  there  is  a  possible  womanhood  complete 
without  man." 

"That 's  not  the  Christian  idea,"  said  my  uncle. 

"Pardon  me,"  I  replied,  "but  I  believe  it  is  exactly 
what  St.  Paul  meant  when  he  spoke  of  the  state  of  celi 
bacy,  in  devotion  to  the  higher  spiritual  life,  as  being  a 
higher  state  for  some  men  and  women  than  marriage." 

"You  are  on  dangerous  ground  there,"  said  my  uncle; 
"you  will  run  right  into  monastic  absurdity." 

"High  grounds  are  always  dangerous  grounds,"  said  I, 
"full  of  pitfalls  and  precipices,  yet  the  Lord  has  persisted 
in  making  mountains,  precipices,  pitfalls,  and  all,  and 
being  made  they  may  as  well  be  explored,  even  at  the  risk 
of  breaking  one's  neck.  We  may  as  well  look  every  ques 
tion  in  the  face,  and  run  every  inquiry  to  its  ultimate." 

"Go  it  then,"  said  my  uncle,  "and  joy  go  with  you; 
the  chariot  of  the  sun  is  the  place  for  a  prospect!  Up 
with  you  into  it,  my  boy,  that  kind  of  driving  is  interest 
ing;  in  fact,  when  I  was  young,  I  should  have  liked  it 
myself,  but  if  you  don't  want  to  kick  up  as  great  a  bob 
bery  as  Phaeton  did,  you  'd  better  mind  his  father's  advice: 
spare  the  whip,  and  use  the  reins  with  those  fiery  horses 
of  the  future." 

"But,  now,"  said  I,  "as  the  final  result  of  all  this,  will 
you  help  Caroline  1 " 

"Yes,  I  will;  soberly  and  seriously,  I  will.  I'll  drive 
over  there  and  have  a  little  talk  with  the  girl  as  soon  as 
you  're  gone." 

"And,  uncle,"  said  I,  "if  you  wish  to  gain  influence 
with  her,  don't  flatter  nor  compliment;  examine  her,  and 
appoint  her  tasks  exactly  as  you  would  those  of  a  young 


WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER  125 

man  in  similar  circumstances.  You  will  please  her  best 
so;  she  is  ready  to  do  work  and  make  serious  studies; 
she  is  of  a  thorough,  earnest  nature,  and  will  do  credit  to 
your  teaching." 

"What  a  pity  she  wasn't  born  a  boy,"  said  my  uncle 
under  his  breath. 

"Well,  let  you  and  me  do  what  we  can,"  said  I,  "to 
bring  in  such  a  state  of  things  in  this  world  that  it  shall 
no  longer  be  said  of  any  woman  that  it  was  a  pity  not  to 
have  been  born  a  man." 

Subsequently  I  spoke  to  my  mother  on  the  same  subject, 
and  gave  her  an  account  of  my  interview  with  Caroline. 

I  think  that  my  mother,  in  her  own  secret  heart,  had 
cherished  very  much  the  same  hopes  for  me  that  had  been 
expressed  by  Uncle  Jacob.  Caroline  was  an  uncommon 
person,  the  star  of  the  little  secluded  neighborhood,  and 
my  mother  had  seen  enough  of  her  to  know  that,  though 
principally  absorbed  in  the  requirements  of  a  very  hard 
domestic  sphere,  she  possessed  an  uncommon  character  and 
great  capabilities.  Between  her  and  my  mother,  however, 
there  had  been  that  silence  which  often  exists  between  two 
natures,  both  sensitive  and  both  reticent,  who  seem  to  act 
as  non-conductors  to  each  other.  Caroline  stood  a  little  in 
awe  of  the  moral  and  religious  force  of  my  mother,  and 
my  mother  was  a  little  chilled  by  the  keen  intellectualism 
of  Caroline. 

There  are  people  that  cannot  understand  each  other  with 
out  an  interpreter,  and  it  is  not  unfrequently  easier  for 
men  and  women  to  speak  confidentially  to  each  other  than 
to  their  own  sex.  There  are  certain  aspects  in  which  each 
sex  is  sure  of  more  comprehension  than  from  its  own.  I 
served,  in  this  case,  as  the  connecting  wire  of  the  galvanic 
battery  to  pass  the  spark  of  sympathetic  comprehension 
between  these  two  natures. 

My  mother  was  one  of  those  women  naturally  timid, 


126  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

reticent,  retiring,  encompassed  by  physical  diffidence  as 
with  a  mantle  —  so  sensitive  that,  even  in  an  argument 
with  me,  the  blood  would  flush  into  her  cheeks  —  yet,  she 
had  withal  that  deep,  brooding,  philosophical  nature,  which 
revolves  all  things  silently,  and  with  intensest  interest,  and 
comes  to  perfectly  independent  conclusions  in  the  irrespon 
sible  liberty  of  solitude.  How  many  times  has  this  great 
noisy  world  been  looked  out  on,  and  silently  judged,  by 
these  quiet,  thoughtful  women  of  the  Virgin  Mary  type, 
who  have  never  uttered  their  Magnificat  till  they  uttered 
it  beyond  the  veil !  My  mother  seemed  to  be  a  woman  in 
whom  religious  faith  had  risen  to  that  amount  of  certainty 
and  security,  that  she  feared  no  kind  of  investigation  or 
discussion,  and  had  no  prejudices  or  passionate  preferences. 
Thus  she  read  the  works  of  the  modern  physical  philosophi 
cal  school  with  a  tranquil  curiosity  and  a  patient  analysis, 
apparently  enjoying  every  well-turned  expression,  and  re 
ceiving  with  interest,  and  weighing  with  deliberation,  every 
record  of  experiments  and  every  investigation  of  facts. 
Her  faith  in  her  religion  was  so  perfect  that  she  could 
afford  all  these  explorations,  no  more  expecting  her  Chris 
tian  hopes  to  fall,  through  any  discoveries  of  modern  sci 
ence,  than  she  expected  the  sun  to  cease  shining  on  account 
of  the  contradictory  theories  of  astronomers.  They  who 
have  lived  in  communion  with  God  have  a  mode  of  evi 
dence  unknown  to  philosophers;  a  knowledge  at  first  hand. 
In  the  same  manner  the  wideness  of  Christian  charity 
gave  my  mother  a  most  catholic  tolerance  for  natures  un 
like  her  own. 

"I  have  always  believed  in  the  doctrine  of  vocations," 
she  said,  as  she  listened  to  me;  "it  is  one  of  those  points 
where  the  Romish  Church  has  shown  a  superior  good  sense 
in  discovering  and  making  a  place  for  every  kind  of  na 
ture." 

"Caroline  has  been  afraid  to  confide  in  you,   lest  you 


WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER  127 

should  think  her  struggles  to  rise  above  her  destiny,  and 
her  dissatisfaction  with  it,  irreligious." 

"Far  from  it,"  said  my  mother;  "I  wholly  sympathize 
with  her;  people  don't  realize  what  it  is  to  starve  faculties; 
they  understand  physical  starvation,  but  the  slow  fainting 
and  dying  of  desires  and  capabilities  for  want  of  anything 
to  feed  upon,  the  withering  of  powers  for  want  of  exercise, 
is  what  they  do  not  understand.  This  is  what  Caroline  is 
condemned  to,  by  the  fixed  will  of  her  father,  and  whether 
any  mortal  can  prevail  with  him,  I  don't  know." 

"  You  might,  dear  mother,  I  am  sure." 

"I  doubt  it;  he  has  a  manner  that  freezes  me.  I  think 
in  his  hard,  silent,  interior  way,  he  loves  me,  but  any  ar 
gument  addressed  to  him,  any  direct  attempt  to  change  his 
opinions  and  purpose,  only  makes  him  harder." 

"  Would  it  not,  then,  be  her  right  to  choose  her  course 
without  his  consent  —  and  against  it  1 "  My  mother  sat 
with  her  blue  eyes  looking  thoughtfully  before  her. 

"There  is  no  point,"  she  said  slowly,  "that  requires 
more  careful  handling,  to  discriminate  right  from  wrong, 
than  the  limits  of  self-sacrifice.  To  a  certain  extent  it  is 
a  virtue,  and  the  noblest  one,  but  there  are  rights  of  the 
individual  that  ought  not  to  be  sacrificed;  our  own  happi 
ness  has  its  just  place,  and  I  cannot  see  it  to  be  more  right 
to  suffer  injustice  to  one's  self  than  to  another,  if  one  can 
help  it.  The  individual  right  of  self-assertion  of  child 
against  parent  is  like  the  right  of  revolution  in  the  State, 
a  difficult  one  to  define,  yet  a  real  one.  It  seems  to  me 
that  one  owes  it  to  God,  and  to  the  world,  to  become  all 
that  one  can  be,  and  to  do  all  that  one  can  do,  and  that  a 
blind,  unreasoning  authority  that  forbids  this  is  to  be  re 
sisted  by  a  higher  law.  If  I  would  help  another  person 
to  escape  from  an  unreasoning  tyranny,  I  ought  to  do  as 
much  for  myself." 

"And  don't   you  think,"  said   I,  "that  the   silent  self- 


128  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

abnegation  of  some  fine  natures  has  done  harm  by  increas 
ing  in  those  around  them  the  habits  of  tyranny  and  selfish 
ness  ? " 

"Undoubtedly,"  said  my  mother,  "many  wives  make 
their  husbands  bad  Christians,  and  really  stand  in  the  way 
of  their  salvation,  by  a  weak,  fond  submission,  and  a  sort 
of  morbid  passion  for  self-sacrifice  —  really  generous  and 
noble  men  are  often  tempted  to  fatal  habits  of  selfishness 
in  this  way." 

"  Then  would  it  not  be  better  for  Caroline  to  summon 
courage  to  tell  her  father  exactly  how  she  feels  and  views 
his  course  and  hers  ?  " 

"He  has  a  habit,"  said  my  mother,  "of  cutting  short 
any  communication  from  his  children  that  doesn't  please 
him,  by  bringing  down  his  hand  abruptly  and  saying,  *  No 
more  of  that,  I  don't  want  to  hear  it. '  With  me  he  ac 
complishes  the  same  by  abruptly  leaving  the  room.  The 
fact  is,"  said  my  mother,  after  a  pause,  "I  more  than  sus 
pect  that  he  set  his  foot  on  something  really  vital  to  Caro 
line's  life,  years  ago,  when  she  was  quite  young." 

"You  mean  an  attachment?  " 

"  Yes.  I  had  hoped  that  it  had  been  outgrown  or  super 
seded;  probably  it  may  be,  but  I  think  she  is  one  of  the 
sort  in  which  such  an  experience  often  destroys  all  chance 
for  any  other  to  come  after  it." 

"Were  you  told  of  this? " 

"  I  discovered  it  by  an  accident,  no  matter  how.  I  was 
not  told,  and  I  know  very  little,  yet  enough  to  enable  me 
to  admire  the  vigor  with  which  she  has  made  the  most  of 
life,  the  cheerfulness  and  thoroughness  with  which  she  has 
accepted  hard  duties.  Well,"  she  added,  after  a  pause, 
"I  will  talk  with  Caroline,  and  we  will  see  what  can  be 
done,  and  then,"  she  added,  "we  can  carry  the  matter  to 
a  higher  One,  who  understands  all,  and  holds  all  in  his 
hands. " 


WHY  DON'T  YOU  TAKE  HER  129 

My  mother  spoke  with  a  bright,  assured  face  of  this 
resort,  sacred  in  every  emergency. 

This  was  the  last  night  of  my  stay  at  home;  the  next 
day  I  was  to  start  for  my  ship  to  go  to  Europe.  I  sat  up 
late  writing  to  Caroline,  and  left  the  letter  in  my  mother's 
hands. 


CHAPTEK   XI 

I    LAY    THE    FIRST    STONE    IN    MY    FOUNDATION 

MY  story  now  opens  in  New  York,  whither  I  am  come 
to  seek  my  fortune  as  a  maker  and  seller  of  the  invisible 
fabrics  of  the  brain. 

During  my  year  in  Europe  I  had  done  my  best  to  make 
myself  known  at  the  workshops  of  different  literary  periodi 
cals,  as  a  fabricator  of  these  airy  wares.  I  tried  all  sorts 
and  sizes  of  articles,  from  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to 
severe,  sowing  them  broadcast  in  various  papers,  without 
regard  to  pecuniary  profit,  and  the  consequence  was  that  I 
came  back  to  New  York  as  a  writer  favorably  known,  who 
had  made  something  of  a  position.  To  be  sure,  my  foot 
was  on  the  lowest  round  of  the  ladder,  but  it  was  on  the 
ladder,  and  I  meant  to  climb. 

"  To  climb  —  to  what  1  "  In  the  answer  a  man  gives  to 
that  question  lies  the  whole  character  of  his  life-work.  If 
to  climb  be  merely  to  gain  a  name,  and  a  competence,  a 
home,  a  wife,  and  children,  with  the  means  of  keeping 
them  in  ease  and  comfort,  the  question,  though  beset  with 
difficulties  of  practical  performance,  is  comparatively  sim 
ple.  But  if  in  addition  to  this  a  man  is  to  build  himself 
up  after  an  ideal  standard,  as  carefully  as  if  he  were  a  tem 
ple  to  stand  for  eternity;  if  he  is  to  lend  a  hand  to  help 
that  great  living  temple  which  God  is  perfecting  in  human 
society,  the  question  becomes  more  complicated  still. 

I  fear  some  of  my  fair  readers  are  by  this  time  impatient 
to  see  something  of  "my  wife."  Let  me  tell  them  for 
their  comfort  that  at  this  moment,  when  I  entered  New 


I  LAY   THE  FIRST   STONE   IN   MY   FOUNDATION      131 

York  on  a  drizzly,  lonesome  December  evening,  she  was 
there,  fair  as  a  star,  though  I  knew  it  not.  The  same  may 
be  true  of  you,  young  man.  If  you  are  ever  to  be  mar 
ried,  your  wife  is  probably  now  in  the  world;  some  house 
holds  her,  and  there  are  mortal  eyes  at  this  hour  to  whom 
her  lineaments  are  as  familiar  as  they  are  unknown  to  you. 
So  much  for  the  doctrine  of  predestination. 

But  at  this  hour  that  I  speak  of,  though  the  lady  in 
question  was  a  living  and  blessed  fact,  and  though  she 
looked  on  the  same  stars,  and  breathed  the  same  air,  and 
trod  daily  the  same  sidewalk  with  myself,  I  was  not,  as  I 
perceive,  any  the  wiser  or  better  for  it  at  this  particular 
period  of  my  existence.  In  fact,  though  she  was  in  a  large 
part  the  unperceived  spring  and  motive  of  all  that  I  did, 
yet  at  this  particular  time  I  was  so  busy  in  adjusting  the 
material  foundations  of  my  life  that  the  ideas  of  marrying 
and  giving  in  marriage  were  never  less  immediately  in  my 
thoughts.  I  came  into  New  York  a  stranger.  I  knew 
nobody  personally,  and  I  had  no  time  for  visiting. 

I  had  been,  in  the  course  of  my  wanderings,  in  many 
cities.  I  had  lingered  in  Paris,  Rome,  Florence,  and 
Naples,  and,  with  the  exception  of  London,  I  never  found 
a  place  so  difficult  to  breathe  the  breath  of  any  ideality,  or 
any  enthusiasm,  or  exaltation  of  any  description,  as  New 
York.  London,  with  its  ponderous  gloom,  its  sullen, 
mammoth,  aristocratic  shadows,  seems  to  benumb,  and 
chill,  and  freeze  the  soul;  but  New  York  impressed  me 
like  a  great  hot  furnace,  where  twig,  spray,  and  flower 
wither  in  a  moment,  and  the  little  birds  flying  over  drop 
down  dead.  My  first  impulse  in  life  there  was  to  cover, 
and  conceal,  and  hide  in  the  deepest  and  most  remote  cav 
erns  of  my  heart  anything  that  was  sacred,  and  delicate, 
and  tender,  lest  the  flame  should  scorch  it.  Balzac  in  his 
epigrammatic  manner  has  characterized  New  York  as  the 
city  where  there  is  "neither  faith,  hope,  nor  charity,"  and, 


132  MY   WIFE   AND  I 

as  he  never  came  here,  I  suppose  he  must  have  taken  his 
impressions  from  the  descriptions  of  unfortunate  compa 
triots,  who  have  landed  strangers  and  been  precipitated 
into  the  very  rush  and  whirl  of  its  grinding  selfishness, 
and  its  desperate  don't-care  manner  of  doing  things.  There 
is  abundance  of  selfishness  and  hardness  in  Paris,  but  it 
is  concealed  under  a  veil  of  ideality.  The  city  wooes  you 
like  a  home,  it  gives  you  picture-galleries,  fountains,  gar 
dens,  and  grottoes,  and  a  good-natured  lounging  population, 
who  have  nothing  to  do  but  make  themselves  agreeable. 

I  must  confess  that  my  first  emotion  in  making  my  way 
about  the  streets  of  New  York,  before  I  had  associated 
them  with  any  intimacy  or  acquaintances,  was  a  vague  sort 
of  terror,  such  as  one  would  feel  at  being  jostled  among 
cannibals,  who  on  a  reasonable  provocation  wouldn't  hesi 
tate  to  skin  him  and  pick  his  bones.  There  was  such  a 
driving,  merciless,  fierce  "  take-care-of-yourself,  and  devil 
take  the  hindmost "  air,  even  to  the  drays  and  omnibuses 
and  hackmen,  that  I  had  somewhat  the  feeling  of  being  in 
an  unregulated  menagerie,  not  knowing  at  what  moment 
some  wild  beast  might  spring  upon  me.  As  I  became  more 
acquainted  in  the  circles  centring  around  the  different 
publications,  I  felt  an  acrid,  eager,  nipping  air,  in  which 
it  appeared  to  me  that  everybody  had  put  on  defensive 
armor  in  regard  to  his  own  innermost  and  most  precious 
feelings,  and  like  the  lobster,  armed  himself  with  claws  to 
seize  and  to  tear  that  which  came  in  his  way.  The  rivalry 
between  great  literary  organs  was  so  intense,  and  the  com 
petition  so  vivid,  that  the  offering  of  any  flower  of  fancy 
or  feeling  to  any  of  them  seemed  about  as  absurd  as  if 
a  man  should  offer  a  tea-rose  bud  to  the  bawling,  shout 
ing  hackmen  that  shake  their  whips  and  scream  at  the 
landing. 

Everything  in  life  and  death,  and  time  and  eternity, 
Whether  high  as  heaven  or  deep  as  hell,  seemed  to  be 


I  LAY   THE   FIRST   STONE   IN   MY   FOUNDATION      133 

looked  upon  only  as  subject-matter  for  advertisement  and 
material  for  running  a  paper.  Hand  out  your  wares!  ad 
vertise  them,  and  see  what  they  will  bring  seemed  to  be 
the  only  law  of  production,  at  whose  behest  the  most 
delicate  webs  and  traceries  of  fancy,  the  most  solemn  and 
tender  mysteries  of  feeling,  the  most  awful  of  religious 
emotions,  came  to  have  a  trademark  and  market  value! 
In  short,  New  York  is  the  great  business  mart,  the  Vanity 
Fair  of  the  world,  where  everything  is  pushed  by  advertis 
ing  and  competition,  not  even  excepting  the  great  moral 
enterprise  of  bringing  in  the  millennium;  and  in  the  first 
blast  and  blare  of  its  busy,  noisy  publicity  and  activity  I 
felt  niy  inner  spirits  shrink  and  tremble  with  dismay. 
Even  the  religion  of  this  great  emporium  bears  the  deep 
impress  of  the  trademark  which  calendars  its  financial  value. 

I  could  not  but  think  what  the  sweet  and  retiring  Gali 
lean,  who  in  the  old  days  was  weary  and  worn  with  the 
rush  of  crowds  in  simple  old  Palestine,  must  think  if  he 
looks  down  now  on  the  way  in  which  his  religion  is  adver 
tised  and  pushed  in  modern  society.  Certain  it  is,  if  it  be 
the  kingdom  of  God  that  is  coming  in  our  times,  it  is 
coming  with  very  great  observation,  and  people  have  long 
since  forgotten  that  they  are  not  to  say  "Lo,  here!"  and 
"Lo,  there !"  since  that  is  precisely  what  a  large  part  of 
the  world  are  getting  their  living  by  doing. 

These  ideas  I  must  confess  bore  with  great  weight  on 
my  mind,  as  I  had  just  parted  from  my  mother,  whose  last 
words  were  that  whatever  else  I  did,  and  whether  I  gained 
anything  for  this  life  or  not,  she  trusted  that  I  would  live 
an  humble,  self-denying,  Christian  life.  I  must  own  that 
for  the  first  few  weeks  of  looking  into  the  interior  manage 
ment  of  literary  life  in  New  York,  the  idea  at  times  often 
seemed  to  me  really  ludicrous.  To  be  humble,  yet  to  seek 
success  in  society  where  it  is  the  first  duty  to  crow  from 
morning  till  night,  and  to  praise,  and  vaunt,  and  glorify, 


134  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

at  the  top  of  one's  lungs,  one's  own  party,  or  paper,  or 
magazine,  seemed  to  me  sufficiently  amusing.  However, 
in  conformity  with  a  solemn  promise  made  to  my  mother, 
I  lost  no  time  in  uniting  myself  with  a  Christian  body,  of 
my  father's  own  denomination,  and  presented  a  letter  from 
the  church  in  Highland  to  the  brethren  of  the  Bethany 
Church. 

And  here  I  will  say  that  for  a  young  man  who  wants 
shelter  and  nourishment  and  shade  for  the  development  of 
his  fine  moral  sensibilities,  a  breakwater  to  keep  the  waves 
of  materialism  from  dashing  over  and  drowning  his  higher 
life,  there  is  nothing  better,  as  yet  to  be  found,  than  a 
union  with  some  one  of  the  many  bodies  of  differing  names 
and  denominations  calling  themselves  Christian  churches. 
A  Christian  church,  according  to  the  very  best  definition 
of  the  name  ever  yet  given,  is  a  congregation  of  faithful 
men,  in  which  the  pure  word  of  God  is  preached,  and  the 
sacraments  duly  ministered  according  to  Christ's  ordinance; 
and  making  due  allowance  for  all  the  ignorance,  and  preju 
dice,  and  mistakes,  and  even  the  willful  hypocrisy,  which, 
as  human  nature  is,  must  always  exist  in  such  connections, 
I  must  say  that  I  think  these  churches  are  the  best  form 
of  social  moral  culture  yet  invented,  and  not  to  be  dis 
pensed  with  till  something  more  fully  answering  the  pur 
pose  has  been  tested  for  as  long  a  time  as  they. 

These  are  caravans  that  cross  the  hot  and  weary  sands 
of  life,  and  while  there  may  be  wrangling  and  undesirable 
administration  at  times  within  them,  yet,  after  all,  the 
pilgrim  that  undertakes  alone  is  but  a  speck  in  the  wide 
desert,  too  often  blown  away,  and  withering  like  the  leaf 
before  the  wind. 

The  great  congregation  of  the  Bethany  on  Sabbath  days, 
all  standing  up  together  and  joining  in  mighty  hymn -sing 
ing,  though  all  were  outwardly  unknown  to  me,  seemed 
to  thrill  my  heart  with  a  sense  of  solemn  companionship, 


I   LAY   THE   FIKST   STONE   IN   MY   FOUNDATION      135 

in  my  earliest  and  most  sacred  religious  associations.  It 
was  a  congregation  largely  made  up  of  young  men,  who 
like  myself  were  strangers,  away  from  home  and  friends, 
and  whose  hearts,  touched  and  warmed  by  the  familiar 
sounds,  seemed  to  send  forth  magnetic  odors  like  the  in 
terlocked  pine-trees  under  the  warm  sunshine  of  a  June 
day. 

I  have  long  felt  that  he  who  would  work  his  brain  for 
a  living,  without  premature  wear  upon  the  organ,  must 
have  Sunday  placed  as  a  sacred  barrier  of  entire  oblivion, 
so  far  as  possible,  of  the  course  of  his  week-day  cares. 
And  what  oblivion  can  be  more  complete  than  to  rise  on 
the  wings  of  religious  ordinance  into  the  region  of  those 
diviner  faculties  by  which  man  recognizes  his  heirship  to 
all  that  is  in  God  ? 

In  like  manner  I  found  an  oasis  in  the  hot  and  hurried 
course  of  my  week-day  life,  by  dropping  in  to  the  weekly 
prayer  meeting.  The  large,  bright,  pleasant  room  seemed 
so  social  and  homelike,  the  rows  of  cheerful,  well-dressed, 
thoughtful  people  seemed,  even  before  I  knew  one  of 
them,  fatherly,  motherly,  brotherly,  and  sisterly,  as  they 
joined  with  the  piano  in  familiar  hymn-singing,  while  the 
pastor  sat  among  them  as  a  father  in  his  family,  and  easy 
social  conversation  went  on  with  regard  to  the  various 
methods  and  aspects  of  the  practical  religious  life. 

To  me,  a  stranger,  and  naturally  shy  and  undemonstra 
tive,  this  socialism  was  in  the  highest  degree  warming  and 
inspiring.  I  do  not  mean  to  set  the  praise  of  this  church 
above  that  of  a  hundred  others,  with  which  I  might  have 
become  connected,  but  I  will  say  that  here  I  met  the  types 
of  some  of  those  good  old-fashioned  Christians  that  Haw 
thorne  celebrates  in  his  "Celestial  Railroad,"  under  the 
name  of  Messrs.  "Stick  to  the  Eight7'  and  "Foot  it  to 
Heaven,"  men  better  known  among  the  poor  and  afflicted 
than  in  fashionable  or  literary  circles,  men  who,  without 


136  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

troubling  their  heads  about  much  speculation,  are  footing 
it  to  heaven  on  the  old  time-worn,  narrow  way,  and  carry 
ing  with  them  as  many  as  they  can  induce  to  go. 

Having  thus  provided  against  being  drawn  down  and 
utterly  swamped  in  the  bread-and-subsistence  struggle  that 
was  before  me,  I  sought  to  gain  a  position  in  connection 
with  some  paper  in  New  York.  I  had  offers  under  con 
sideration  from  several  of  them.  The  conductors  of  the 
"Moral  Spouting  Horn"  had  conversed  with  me  touching 
their  projects,  and  I  had  also  been  furnishing  letters  for 
the  "Great  Democracy,"  and  one  of  the  proprietors  had 
invited  me  to  a  private  dinner,  I  suppose  for  the  purpose 
of  looking  me  over  and  trying  my  paces  before  he  con 
cluded  to  purchase  me. 

Mr.  Goldstick  was  a  florid,  middle-aged  man,  with  a 
slightly  bald  head,  an  easy  portliness  of  manner,  and  that 
air  of  comfortable  patronage  which  men  who  are  up  in  the 
world  sometimes  carry  towrards  young  aspirants.  It  was 
his  policy  and  his  way  to  put  himself  at  once  on  a  footing 
of  equality  with  them,  easy,  jolly,  and  free;  justly  think 
ing  that  thereby  he  gained  a  more  unguarded  insight  into 
the  inner  citadel  of  their  nature,  and  could  see  in  the  easy 
play  of  their  faculties  just  about  how  much  they  could  be 
made  to  answer  his  purposes.  I  had  a  chatty,  merry  din 
ner  of  it,  and  found  all  my  native  shyness  melting  away 
under  his  charming  affability.  In  fact,  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  time  I  almost  felt  that  I  could  have  told  him 
anything  that  I  could  have  told  my  own  mother.  What 
did  we  not  talk  about  that  is  of  interest  in  these  stirring 
times?  Philosophy,  history,  science,  religion,  life,  death, 
and  immortality  —  all  received  the  most  graceful  off-hand 
treatment,  and  were  discussed  with  a  singular  unanimity 
of  sentiment  —  that  unanimity  which  always  takes  place 
when  the  partner  in  a  discussion  has  the  controlling  pur 
pose  to  be  of  the  same  mind  as  yourself.  When,  under 


I   LAY   THE   FIRST    STONE   IN   MY   FOUNDATION      137 

the  warm  and  sunny  air  of  this  genial  nature,  I  had  fully 
expanded,  and  confidence  was  in  full  blossom,  came  the 
immediate  business  conversation  in  relation  to  the  paper. 

"I  am  rejoiced,"  said  Mr.  Goldstick,  "in  these  days  of 
skepticism  to  come  across  a  young  man  with  real  religious 
convictions.  I  am  not,  I  regret  to  say,  a  religious  professor 
myself,  but  I  appreciate  it,  Mr.  Henderson,  as  the  element 
most  wanting  in  our  modern  life."  Here  Mr.  Goldstick 
sighed  and  rolled  up  his  eyes,  and  took  a  glass  of  wine. 

I  felt  encouraged  in  this  sympathetic  atmosphere  to  un 
fold  to  him  my  somewhat  idealized  views  of  what  might  be 
accomplished  by  the  daily  press,  by  editors  as  truly  under 
moral  vows  and  consecrations  as  the  clergymen  who  minis 
tered  at  the  altar. 

He  caught  the  idea  from  me  with  enthusiasm,  and  went 
on  to  expand  it  with  a  vigor  and  richness  of  imagery,  and 
to  illustrate  it  with  a  profusion  of  incidents,  which  left  me 
far  behind  him,  gazing  after  him  with  reverential  admira 
tion. 

"Mr.  Henderson,"  said  he,  "the  'Great  Democracy'  is 
not  primarily  a  money-making  enterprise  —  it  is  a  great 
moral  engine;  it  is  for  the  great  American  people,  and  it 
contemplates  results  which  look  to  the  complete  regenera 
tion  of  society." 

I  ventured  here  to  remark  that  the  same  object  had  been 
stated  to  me  by  the  "  Moral  Spouting  Horn. " 

His  countenance  assumed  at  once  an  expression  of  in 
tense  disgust. 

"Is  it  possible,"  he  said,  "that  the  charlatan  has  been 
trying  to  get  hold  of  you?  My  dear  fellow,"  he  added, 
drawing  near  to  me  with  a  confidential  air,  "of  course  I 
would  be  the  last  man  to  infringe  on  the  courtesies  due  to 
my  brethren  of  the  press,  and  you  must  be  aware  that  our 
present  conversation  is  to  be  considered  strictly  confiden 
tial." 


138  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

I  assured  him  with  fervor  that  I  should  consider  it  so. 

"Well,  then,"  he  said,  "between  ourselves,  I  may  say 
that  the  '  Moral  Spouting  Horn  '  is  a  humbug.  On  mature 
reflection,"  he  added,  "I  don't  know  but  duty  requires  me 
to  go  farther,  and  say,  in  the  strictest  confidence,  you 
understand,  that  I  consider  the  '  Moral  Spouting  Horn  '  a 
swindle. " 

Here  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  same  communication  had 
been  made  in  equal  confidence  by  the  proprietor  of  the 
"Moral  Spouting  Horn"  in  relation  to  the  "Great  Demo 
cracy."  But,  much  as  I  was  warmed  into  confidence  by  the 
genial  atmosphere  of  my  friend,  I  had  still  enough  prudence 
to  forbear  making  this  statement. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "my  young  friend,  in  devoting  yourself 
to  the  service  of  the  '  Great  Democracy  '  you  may  consider 
yourself  as  serving  the  cause  of  God  and  mankind  in  ways 
that  no  clergyman  has  an  equal  chance  of  doing.  Beside 
the  press,  sir,  the  pulpit  is  effete.  It  is,  so  to  speak,"  he 
added,  with  a  sweep  of  the  right  hand,  "nowhere.  Of 
course,  the  responsibilities  of  conducting  such  an  organ 
are  tremendous,  tremendous,"  he  added  reflectively,  as  I 
looked  at  him  with  awe;  "and  that  is  why  I  require  in 
my  writers,  above  all  things,  the  clearest  and  firmest  moral 
convictions.  Sir,  it  is  a  critical  period  in  our  history; 
there  is  an  amount  of  corruption  in  this  nation  that  threat 
ens  its  dissolution ;  the  Church  and  the  Pulpit  have  proved 
entirely  inadequate  to  stem  it.  It  rests  with  the  Press." 

There  was  a  solemn  pause,  in  which  nothing  was  heard 
but  the  clink  of  the  decanter  on  the  glass,  as  he  poured  out 
another  glass  of  wine. 

"It  is  a  great  responsibility,"  I  remarked,  with  a  sigh. 

"Enormous!"  he  added,  with  almost  a  groan,  eying 
me  sternly.  "Consider,"  he  went  on,  "the  evils  of  the 
tremendously  corrupted  literature  which  is  now  being 
poured  upon  the  community.  Sir,  we  are  fast  drifting  to 


I  LAY   THE   FIRST   STONE   IN   MY   FOUNDATION      139 

destruction,  it  is  a  solemn  fact.  The  public  mind  must  be 
aroused  and  strengthened  to  resist;  they  must  be  taught  to 
discriminate;  there  must  be  a  just  standard  of  moral  criti 
cism  no  less  than  of  intellectual,  and  that  must  be  attended 
to  in  our  paper." 

I  was  delighted  to  find  his  views  in  such  accordance 
with  my  own,  and  assured  him  I  should  be  only  too  happy 
to  do  what  I  could  to  forward  them. 

"We  have  been  charmed  and  delighted,"  he  said,  "with 
your  contributions  hitherto;  they  have  a  high  moral  tone 
and  have  been  deservedly  popular,  and  it  is  our  desire  to 
secure  you  as  a  stated  contributor  in  a  semi-editorial  capa 
city,  looking  towards  future  developments.  We  wish  that 
it  were  in  our  power  to  pay  a  more  liberal  sum  than  we 
can  offer,  but  you  must  be  aware,  Mr.  Henderson,  that 
great  moral  enterprises  must  always  depend,  in  a  certain 
degree,  on  the  element  of  self-sacrifice  in  their  promoters." 

I  reflected,  at  this  moment,  on  my  father's  life,  and 
assented  with  enthusiasm  —  remarking  that  "if  I  could 
only  get  enough  to  furnish  me  with  the  necessaries  of  life 
I  should  be  delighted  to  go  into  the  glorious  work  with 
him,  and  give  to  it  the  whole  enthusiasm  of  my  soul." 

"You  have  the  right  spirit,  young  man,"  he  said.  "It 
is  delightful  to  witness  this  freshness  of  moral  feeling." 
And  thus,  before  our  interview  was  closed,  I  had  signed 
a  contract  of  service  to  Mr.  Goldstick,  at  very  moderate 
wages,  but  my  heart  was  filled  with  exulting  joy  at  the 
idea  of  the  possibilities  of  the  situation. 

I  was  young,  and  ardent;  I  did  not,  at  this  moment, 
want  to  make  money  so  much  as  to  make  myself  felt  in  the 
great  world.  It  was  the  very  spirit  of  Phaeton;  I  wanted 
to  have  a  hand  on  the  reins,  and  a  touch  of  the  whip,  and 
guide  the  fiery  horses  of  Progress.  I  had  written  stories, 
and  sung  songs,  but  I  was  not  quite  content  with  those;  I 
wanted  the  anonymous  pulpit  of  the  Editor  to  speak  in, 


140  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

the  opportunity  of  being  the  daily  invisible  companion 
and  counselor  of  thousands  about  their  daily  paths.  The 
offer  of  Mr.  Goldstick,  as  I  understood  it,  looked  that  way, 
and  I  resolved  to  deserve  so  well  of  him,  by  unlimited  de 
votion  to  the  interests  of  the  paper,  that  he  should  open 
my  way  before  me. 


CHAPTER   XII 

BACHELOR    COMRADES 

I  SOON  became  well  acquainted  with  my  collaborators  on 
the  paper.  It  was  a  pleasant  surprise  to  be  greeted  in  the 
foreground  by  the  familiar  face  of  Jim  Fellows,  my  old 
college  classmate.  Jim  was  an  agreeable  creature,  born 
with  a  decided  genius  for  gossip.  He  had  in  perfection 
the  faculty  which  phrenologists  call  individuality.  He 
was  statistical  in  the  very  marrow  of  his  bones,  apparently 
imbibing  all  the  external  facts  of  every  person  and  every 
thing  around  him  by  a  kind  of  rapid  instinct.  In  college, 
Jim  always  knew  all  about  every  student;  he  knew  all 
about  everybody  in  the  little  town  where  the  college  was 
situated,  their  name,  history,  character,  business,  their 
front-door  and  their  back-door  affairs.  No  birth,  marriage, 
or  death  ever  took  Jim  by  surprise;  he  always  knew  all 
about  it  long  ago.  Now,  as  a  newspaper  is  a  gossip  market 
on  a  large  scale,  this  species  of  talent  often  goes  farther  in 
our  modern  literary  life  than  the  deepest  reflection  or  the 
highest  culture. 

Jim  was  the  best-natured  fellow  breathing;  it  was  im 
possible  to  ruffle  or  disturb  the  easy,  rattling,  chattering 
flow  of  his  animal  spirits.  He  was  like  a  Frenchman  in 
his  power  of  bright,  airy  adaptation  to  circumstances  and 
determination  and  ability  to  make  the  most  of  them. 

"  How  lucky !  "  he  said,  the  morning  I  first  shook  hands 
with  him  at  the  office  of  the  "Great  Democracy  " ;  "you  are 
just  on  the  minute;  the  very  lodging  you  want  has  been 
vacated  this  morning  by  old  Styles;  sunny  room  —  south 


142  MY  WIFE  AND  I 

windows  —  close  by  here  —  water,  gas,  and  so  on,  all  cor 
rect;  and,  best  of  all,  me  for  your  opposite  neighbor." 

I  went  round  with  him,  looked,  approved,  and  was  set 
tled  at  once,  Jim  helping  me  with  all  the  good-natured 
handiness  and  activity  of  old  college  days.  We  had  a 
rattling,  gay  morning,  plunging  round  into  auction-rooms, 
bargaining  for  second-hand  furniture,  and  with  so  much 
zeal  did  we  drive  our  enterprise,  seconded  by  the  co-labors 
of  a  charwoman  whom  Jim  patronized,  that  by  night  I 
found  myself  actually  settled  in  a  home  of  my  own,  mak 
ing  tea  in  Jim's  patent  bachelor  tea-kettle,  and  talking 
over  his  and  my  affairs  with  the  freedom  of  old  cronies. 
Jim  made  no  scruple  in  inquiring  in  the  most  direct  man 
ner  as  to  the  terms  of  my  agreement  with  Mr.  Goldstick, 
and  opened  the  subject  succinctly,  as  follows:  — 

"Now,  my  son,  you  must  let  your  old  grandfather  ad 
vise  you  a  little  about  your  temporalities.  In  the  first 
place,  what's  Old  Soapy  going  to  give  you?" 

"  If  you  mean  Mr.  Goldstick  "  —  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "call  him  '  Soapy  '  for  short.  Did  he 
come  down  handsomely  on  the  terms  ? " 

"His  offers  were  not  as  large  as  I  should  have  liked; 
but  then,  as  he  said,  this  paper  is  not  a  money-making  affair, 
but  a  moral  enterprise,  and  I  am  willing  to  work  for  less." 

"Moral  grandmother!  "  said  Jim  in  a  tone  of  unlimited 
disgust.  "He  be  —  choked,  as  it  were.  Why,  Harry 
Henderson,  are  your  eye-teeth  in  such  a  retrograde  state  as 
that  1  Why,  this  paper  is  a  fortune  to  that  man ;  he  lives 
in  a  palace,  owns  a  picture-gallery,  and  rolls  about  in  his 
own  carriage." 

"I  understood  him,"  said  I,  "that  the  paper  was  not 
immediately  profitable  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view." 

"  Soapy  calls  everything  unprofitable  that  does  not  yield 
him  fifty  per  cent,  on  the  money  invested.  Talk  of  moral 
enterprise !  What  did  he  engage  you  for  1 " 


BACHELOR  COMRADES  143 

I  stated  the  terms. 

"For  how  long?" 

"For  one  year." 

"Well,  the  best  you  can  do  is  to  work  it  out  now. 
Never  make  another  bargain  without  asking  your  grand 
father.  Why,  he  pays  me  just  double;  and  you  know, 
Harry,  I  am  nothing  at  all  of  a  writer  compared  to  you. 
But  then,  to  be  sure,  I  fill  a  place  you  've  really  no  talent 
for." 

"What  is  that?" 

"General  professor  of  humbug,"  said  Jim.  "No  sort  of 
business  gets  on  in  this  world  without  that,  and  I  'm  a  real 
genius  in  that  line.  I  made  Old  Soapy  come  down,  by 
threatening  to  '  rat, '  and  go  to  the  '  Spouting  Horn, '  and 
they  could  n't  afford  to  let  me  do  that.  You  see,  I  've 
been  up  their  back  stairs,  and  know  all  their  little  family 
secrets.  The  '  Spouting  Horn  '  would  give  their  eye-teeth 
for  me.  It's  too  funny,"  he  said,  throwing  himself  back 
and  laughing. 

"Are  these  papers  rivals?  "  said  I. 

"Well,  I  should  '  rayther  '  think  they  were,"  said  he, 
eying  me  with  an  air  of  superiority  amounting  almost  to 
contempt.  "Why,  man,  the  thing  that  I'm  particularly 
valuable  for  is,  that  I  always  know  just  what  will  plague 
the  *  Spouting  Horn  '  folks  the  most.  I  know  precisely 
where  to  stick  a  pin  or  a  needle  into  them;  and  one  great 
object  of  our  paper  is  to  show  that  the  c  Spouting  Horn  '  is 
always  in  the  wrong.  No  matter  what  topic  is  uppermost, 
I  attend  to  that,  and  get  off  something  on  them.  For  you 
see,  they  are  popular,  and  make  money  like  thunder,  and, 
of  course,  that  isn't  to  be  allowed.  Now,"  he  added, 
pointing  with  his  thumb  upward,  "overhead,  there  is  really 
our  best  fellow  —  Bolton.  Bolton  is  said  to  be  the  best 
writer  of  English  in  our  day ;  he  's  an  A  No.  1,  and  no 
mistake ;  tremendously  educated,  and  all  that,  and  he  knows 


144  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

exactly  to  a  shaving  what 's  what  everywhere;  he  's  a  gen 
tleman,  too;  we  call  him  the  Dominie.  Well,  Eolton 
writes  the  great  leaders,  and  fires  off  on  all  the  awful  and 
solemn  topics,  and  lays  off  the  politics  of  Europe  and  the 
world  generally.  When  there  's  a  row  over  there  in  Eu 
rope,  Bolton  is  magnificent  on  editorials.  You  see,  he  has 
the  run  of  all  the  rows  they  have  had  there,  and  every 
bobbery  that  has  been  kicked  up  since  the  Christian  era. 
He  '11  tell  you  what  the  French  did  in  1700  this,  and  the 
Germans  in  1800  that,  and  of  course  he  prophesies  splen 
didly  on  what 's  to  turn  up  next." 

"I  suppose  they  give  him  large  pay,"  said  I. 

"Well,  you  see,  Bolton  ;s  a  quiet  fellow  and  a  gentleman 
—  one  that  hates  to  jaw  —  and  is  modest,  and  so  they  keep 
him  along  steady  on  about  half  what  I  would  get  out  of 
them  if  I  were  in  his  skin.  Bolton  is  perfectly  satisfied. 
If  I  were  he,  I  shouldn't  be,  you  see.  I  say,  Harry,  I 
know  you  'd  like  him.  Let  me  bring  him  down  and  intro 
duce  him,"  and  before  I  could  either  consent  or  refuse, 
Jim  rattled  upstairs,  and  I  heard  him  in  an  earnest,  per 
suasive  treaty,  and  soon  he  came  down  with  his  captive. 

I  saw  a  man  of  thirty-three  or  thereabouts,  tall,  well 
formed,  with  bright,  dark  eyes,  strongly  marked  features, 
a  finely  turned  head,  and  closely  cropped  black  hair.  He 
had  what  I  should  call  presence  —  something  that  im 
pressed  me,  as  he  entered  the  room,  with  the  idea  of  a 
superior  kind  of  individuality,  though  he  was  simple  in  his 
manners,  with  a  slight  air  of  shyness  and  constraint.  The 
blood  flushed  in  his  cheeks  as  he  was  introduced  to  me, 
and  there  was  a  tremulous  motion  about  his  finely  cut  lips, 
betokening  suppressed  sensitiveness.  The  first  sound  of 
his  voice,  as  he  spoke,  struck  on  my  ear  agreeably,  like 
the  tones  of  a  fine  instrument,  and,  reticent  and  retiring 
as  he  seemed,  I  felt  myself  singularly  attracted  toward 
him. 


BACHELOR   COMRADES  145 

What  impressed  me  most,  as  he  joined  in  the  conversa 
tion  with  my  rattling,  free  and  easy,  good-natured  neigh 
bor,  was  an  air  of  patient,  amused  tolerance.  He  struck 
me  as  a  man  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  expect  nothing 
and  ask  nothing  of  life,  and  who  was  sitting  it  out  pa 
tiently,  as  one  sits  out  a  dull  play  at  the  theatre.  He  was 
disappointed  with  nobody,  and  angry  with  nobody,  while 
he  seemed  to  have  no  confidence  in  anybody.  With  all 
this  apparent  reserve,  he  was  simply  and  frankly  cordial  to 
me,  as  a  newcomer  and  a  fellow-worker  on  the  same  paper. 

"Mr.  Henderson,"  he  said,  "I  shall  be  glad  to  extend 
to  you  the  hospitalities  of  my  den,  such  as  they  are.  If 
I  can  at  any  time  render  you  any  assistance,  don't  hesitate 
to  use  me.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  walk  up  and  look 
at  my  books  1  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  put  them  at 
your  disposal." 

We  went  up  into  a  little  attic  room  whose  walls  were 
literally  lined  with  books  on  all  sides,  only  allowing  space 
for  the  two  southerly  windows  which  overlooked  the  city. 

"I  like  to  be  high  in  the  world,  you  see,"  he  said,  with 
a  smile. 

The  room  was  not  a  large  one,  and  the  centre  was  occu 
pied  by  a  large  table,  covered  with  books  and  papers.  A 
cheerful  coal  fire  was  burning  in  the  little  grate,  a  large 
leather  armchair  stood  before  it,  and,  with  one  or  two  other 
chairs,  completed  the  furniture  of  the  apartment.  A  small, 
lighted  closet,  whose  door  stood  open  on  the  room,  dis 
played  a  pallet  bed  of  monastic  simplicity. 

There  were  two  occupants  of  the  apartment  who  seemed 
established  there  by  right  of  possession.  A  large  Maltese 
cat,  with  great,  golden  eyes,  like  two  full  moons,  sat 
gravely  looking  into  the  fire,  in  one  corner,  and  a  very 
plebeian,  scrubby  mongrel,  who  appeared  to  have  known 
the  hard  side  of  life  in  former  days,  was  dozing  in  the 
other.  Apparently,  these  genii  loci  were  so  strong  in  their 


146  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

sense  of  possession  that  our  entrance  gave  them  no  disturb 
ance.  The  dog  unclosed  his  eyes  with  a  sleepy  wink  as 
we  came  in,  and  then  shut  them  again,  dreamily,  as  satis 
fied  that  all  was  right. 

Bolton  invited  us  to  sit  down,  and  did  the  honors  of  his 
room  with  a  quiet  elegance,  as  if  it  had  been  a  palace  in 
stead  of  an  attic.  As  soon  as  we  were  seated,  the  cat 
sprang  familiarly  on  the  table  and  sat  down  cosily  by  Bol 
ton,  rubbing  her  head  against  his  coat-sleeve. 

"Let  me  introduce  you  to  my  wife,"  said  Bolton,  strok 
ing  her  head.  "Eh,  Jenny,  what  now1?"  he  added,  as 
she  seized  his  hands  playfully  in  her  teeth  and  claws. 
"You  see,  she  has  the  connubial  weapons,"  he  said,  "and 
insists  on  being  treated  with  attention;  but  she's  capital 
company.  I  read  all  my  articles  to  her,  and  she  never 
makes  an  unjust  criticism." 

Puss  soon  stepped  from  her  perch  on  the  table  and  en 
sconced  herself  in  his  lap,  while  I  went  round  examining 
his  books.  The  library  showed  varied  and  curious  tastes. 
The  books  were  almost  all  rare. 

"I  have  always  made  a  rule,"  he  said,  "never  to  buy 
a  book  that  I  could  borrow." 

I  was  amused,  in  the  course  of  the  conversation,  at  the 
relations  which  apparently  existed  between  him  and  Jim 
Fellows,  which  appeared  to  me  to  be  very  like  what  might 
be  supposed  to  exist  between  a  philosopher  and  a  lively  pet 
squirrel  —  it  was  the  perfection  of  quiet,  amused  tolerance. 

Jim  seemed  to  be  not  in  the  slightest  degree  under  con 
straint  in  his  presence,  and  rattled  on  with  a  free  and  easy 
slang  familiarity,  precisely  as  he  had  done  with  me. 

"What  do  you  think  Old  Soapy  has  engaged  Hal  for? " 
he  said.  "Why,  he  only  offers  him" —  Here  followed 
the.  statement  of  terms. 

I  was  annoyed  at  this  matter-of-fact  way  of  handling  my 
private  affairs,  but  on  meeting  the  eyes  of  my  new  friend  I 


BACHELOR   COMRADES  147 

discerned  a  glance  of  quiet  humor  which  reassured  me. 
He  seemed  to  regard  Jim  only  as  another  form  of  the  inev 
itable. 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  a  confounded  take-in?"  said 
Jim. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Bolton,  with  a  smile,  "but  he 
will  survive  it.  The  place  is  only  one  of  the  stepping- 
stones.  Meanwhile,"  he  said,  "I  think  Mr.  Henderson 
can  find  other  markets  for  his  literary  wares,  and  more 
profitable  ones.  I  think,"  he  added,  while  the  blood  again 
rose  in  his  cheeks,  "that  I  have  some  influence  in  certain 
literary  quarters,  and  I  shall  be  happy  to  do  all  that  I  can 
to  secure  to  him  that  which  he  ought  to  receive  for  such 
careful  work  as  this.  Your  labor  on  the  paper  will  not 
by  any  means  take  up  your  whole  power  or  time." 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "the  fact  is  the  same  all  the  world 
over  —  the  people  that  grow  a  thing  are  those  that  get  the 
least  for  it.  It  isn't  your  farmers,  that  work  early  and 
late,  that  get  rich  by  what  they  raise  out  of  the  earth,  it 's 
the  middlemen  and  the  hucksters.  And  just  so  it  is  in 
literature;  and  the  better  a  fellow  writes,  and  the  more 
work  he  puts  into  it,  the  less  he  gets  paid  for  it.  Why, 
now,  look  at  me,"  he  said,  perching  himself  astride  the 
arm  of  a  chair,  "I  'm  a  genuine  literary  humbug,  but  I  '11 
bet  you  I  '11  make  more  money  than  either  of  you,  because, 
you  see,  I  've  no  modesty  and  no  conscience.  Confound  it 
all,  those  are  luxuries  that  a  poor  fellow  can't  afford  to 
keep.  I  'm  a  sounding  brass  and  a  tinkling  cymbal,  but 
I  'm  just  the  sort  of  fellow  the  world  wants,  and,  hang  it, 
they  shall  pay  me  for  being  that  sort  of  fellow.  I  mean 
to  make  it  shell  out,  and  you  see  if  I  don't.  I  '11  bet  you, 
now,  that  I  'd  write  a  book  that  you  would  n't,  either  of 
you,  be  hired  to  write,  and  sell  one  hundred  thousand 
copies  of  it,  and  put  the  money  in  my  pocket,  marry  the 
handsomest,  richest,  and  best  educated  girl  in  New  York, 


148  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

while  you  are  trudging  on,  doing  good,  careful  work,  as 
you  call  it." 

"Remember  us  in  your  will,"  said  I. 

"Oh  yes,  I  will,"  he  said.  "I'll  found  an  asylum  for 
decayed  authors  of  merit  —  a  sort  of  literary  '  Hotel  des 
Invalides. ' ' 

We  had  a  hearty  laugh  over  this  idea,  and,  on  the 
whole,  our  evening  passed  off  very  merrily.  When  I 
shook  hands  with  Bolton  for  the  night,  it  was  with  a  silent 
conviction  of  an  interior  affinity  between  us. 

It  is  a  charming  thing  in  one's  rambles  to  come  across 
a  tree,  or  a  flower,  or  a  fine  bit  of  landscape  that  one  can 
think  of  afterward,  and  feel  richer  for  its  being  in  the 
world.  But  it  is  more  when  one  is  in  a  strange  place,  to 
come  across  a  man  that  you  feel  thoroughly  persuaded  is, 
somehow  or  other,  morally  and  intellectually  worth  explor 
ing.  Our  lives  tend  to  become  so  hopelessly  commonplace, 
and  the  human  beings  we  meet  are  generally  so  much  one 
just  like  another,  that  the  possibility  of  a  new  and  peculiar 
style  of  character  in  an  acquaintance  is  a  most  enlivening 
one.  There  was  something  about  Bolton  both  stimulating 
and  winning,  and  I  lay  down  less  a  stranger  that  night 
than  I  had  been  since  I  came  to  New  York. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

HAPS    AND    MISHAPS 

I  ENTERED  upon  my  new  duties  with  enthusiasm,  and 
produced  some  editorials,  for  which  I  was  complimented  by 
Mr.  Goldstick. 

"That's  the  kind  of  thing  wanted!"  he  said;  "a  firm, 
moral  tone,  and  steady  religious  convictions;  that  pleases 
the  old  standards." 

Emboldened  by  this  I  proceeded  to  attack  a  specific 
abuse  in  New  York  administration,  which  had  struck  me 
as  needing  to  be  at  once  righted.  If  ever  a  moral  trumpet 
ought  to  have  its  voice,  it  was  on  this  subject.  I  read  my 
article  to  Bolton;  in  fact,  I  had  gradually  fallen  into  the 
habit  of  referring  myself  to  his  judgment. 

"It  is  all  perfectly  true,"  he  remarked,  when  I  had  fin 
ished,  while  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  stroked  his 
cat,  "  but  they  never  will  put  that  into  the  paper,  in  the 
world." 

"Why,"  said  I,  "if  ever  there  was  an  abuse  that  re 
quired  exposing,  it  is  this." 

"Precisely!"  he  replied. 

"And  what  is  the  use,"  I  went  on,  "of  general  moral 
preaching  that  is  never  applied  to  any  particular  case  1 " 

"The  use,"  he  replied  calmly,  "is  that  that  kind  of 
preaching  pleases  everybody,  and  increases  subscribers, 
while  the  other  kind  makes  enemies,  and  decreases  them. " 

"And  you  really  think  that  they  won't  put  this  article 
in?"  said  I. 

"I  'm  certain  they  won't,"  he  replied.    "The  fact  is,  this 


150  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

paper  is  bought  up  on  the  other  side.  Messrs.  Goldstick 
and  Co.  have  intimate  connection  with  Messrs.  Bunkam 
and  Chaffem,  who  are  part  and  parcel  of  this  very  affair." 

I  opened  my  mouth  with  astonishment.  "Then  Gold- 
stick  is  a  hypocrite,"  I  said. 

"Not  consciously,"  he  answered  calmly. 

"Why,"  said  I,  "you  would  have  thought  by  the  way 
he  talked  to  me  that  he  had  nothing  so  much  at  heart  as 
the  moral  progress  of  society,  and  was  ready  to  sacrifice 
everything  to  it." 

"Well,"  said  Bolton  quietly,  "did  you  never  see  a 
woman  who  thought  she  was  handsome,  when  she  was  not? 
Did  you  never  see  a  man  who  thought  he  was  witty,  when 
he  was  only  scurrilous  and  impudent?  Did  you  never  see 
people  who  nattered  themselves  they  were  frank,  because 
they  were  obtuse  and  impertinent?  And  cannot  you  ima 
gine  that  a  man  may  think  himself  a  philanthropist,  when 
he  is  only  a  worshiper  of  the  golden  calf?  That  same 
calf,"  he  continued,  stroking  his  cat  till  she  purred  aloud, 
"has  the  largest  church  of  any  on  earth." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "at  any  rate  I  '11  hand  it  in." 

"You  can  do  so,"  he  replied,  "and  that  will  be  the  last 
you  will  hear  of  it.  You  see,  I  've  been  this  way  before 
you,  and  I  have  learned  to  save  myself  time  and  trouble  on 
these  subjects." 

The  result  was  precisely  as  Bolton  predicted. 

"We  must  be  a  little  careful,  my  young  friend,"  said 
Mr.  Goldstick,  "how  we  handle  specific  matters  of  this 
kind ;  they  have  extended  relations  that  a  young  man  can 
not  be  expected  to  appreciate,  and  I  would  advise  you  to 
confine  yourself  to  abstract  moral  principles;  keep  up  a 
high  moral  standard,  sir,  and  things  will  come  right  of 
themselves.  Now,  sir,  if  you  could  expose  the  corruptions 
in  England  it  would  have  an  admirable  moral  effect,  and 
our  general  line  of  policy  now  is  down  on  England." 


HAPS  AND   MISHAPS  151 

A  day  or  two  after,  however,  I  fell  into  serious  disgrace. 
A  part  of  my  duties  consisted  in  reviewing  the  current 
literature  of  the  day ;  Bolton,  Jim,  and  I  took  that  depart 
ment  among  us,  and  I  soon  learned  to  sympathize  with  the 
tea-tasters,  who  are  said  to  ruin  their  digestion  by  an  in 
cessant  tasting  of  the  different  qualities  of  tea.  The  enor 
mous  quantity  and  variety  of  magazines  and  books  that  I 
had  to  "  sample  "  in  a  few  days  brought  me  into  such  a 
state  of  mental  dyspepsia,  that  I  began  to  wish  every  book 
in  the  Red  Sea.  I  really  was  brought  to  consider  the 
usual  pleasant  tone  of  book  notices  in  America  to  be  evi 
dence  of  a  high  degree  of  Christian  forbearance.  In  look 
ing  over  my  share,  however,  I  fell  upon  a  novel  of  the 
modern,  hot,  sensuous  school,  in  which  glowing  coloring 
and  a  sort  of  religious  sentimentalism  were  thrown  around 
actions  and  principles  which  tended  directly  to  the  dissolu 
tion  of  society.  Here  was  exactly  the  opportunity  to  stem 
that  tide  of  corruption  against  which  Mr.  Goldstick  so 
solemnly  had  warned  me.  I  made  the  analysis  of  the  book 
a  text  for  exposing  the  whole  class  of  principles  and  prac 
tices  it  inculcated,  and  uttering  my  warning  against  corrupt 
literature,  I  sent  it  to  the  paper,  and  in  it  went.  A  day 
or  two  after  Mr.  Goldstick  came  into  the  office  in  great 
disorder,  with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand. 

"What's  all  this?"  he  said;  "here's  Sillery  and 
Peacham  blowing  us  up  for  being  down  on  their  books, 
and  threatening  to  take  away  their  advertising  from  us." 

Nobody  seemed  to  know  anything  about  it,  till  finally 
the  matter  was  traced  back  to  me. 

"It  was  a  corrupt  book,  Mr.  Goldstick,"  said  I,  with 
firmness,  "and  the  very  object  you  stated  to  me  was  to 
establish  a  just  moral  criticism." 

"Go  to  thunder!  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Goldstick  in 
a  tone  I  had  never  heard  before.  "  Have  you  no  discrimi 
nation  ?  are  you  going  to  blow  us  up  ?  The  '  Great  Demo- 


152  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

cracy, '  sir,  is  a  great  moral  engine,  and  the  advertising  of 
this  publishing  house  gives  thousands  of  dollars  yearly 
towards  its  support.  It 's  an  understood  thing  that  Sillery 
and  Peacham's  books  are  to  be  treated  handsomely." 

"I  say,  Captain,"  said  Jim,  who  came  up  behind  us  at 
this  time,  "let  me  manage  this  matter;  I'll  straighten  it 
out;  Sillery  and  Peacham  know  me,  and  I'll  fix  it  with 
them." 

"  Come,  Hal,  my  boy ! "  he  said,  hooking  me  by  the 
arm,  and  leading  me  out. 

We  walked  to  our  lodgings  together.  I  was  gloriously 
indignant  all  the  way,  but  Jim  laughed  till  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  cheeks. 

"You  sweet  babe  of  Eden,"  said  he,  as  we  entered  my 
room,  "do  get  quiet!  I'll  sit  right  down  and  write  a 
letter  from  the  Boston  correspondent  on  that  book,  saying 
that  your  article  has  created  a  most  immense  sensation  in 
the  literary  circles  of  Boston  in  regard  to  its  moral  char 
acter,  and  exhort  everybody  to  rush  to  the  book-store  and 
see  for  themselves.  Now,  '  hush,  my  dear,  lie  still  and 
slumber,'  while  I  do  it." 

"Why,  do  you  mean  to  go  to  Boston? "  said  I. 

"Only  in  spirit,  my  dear.  Bless  you!  did  you  suppose 
that  the  Boston  correspondents,  or  any  other  correspon 
dents,  are  there,  or  anywhere  else  in  fact,  that  they  profess 
to  be  ?  I  told  you  that  I  was  the  professor  of  humbug. 
This  little  affair  lies  strictly  in  my  department." 

"Jim!"  said  I  solemnly,  "I  don't  want  to  be  in  such 
a  network  of  chicanery." 

"Oh,  come,  Hal,  nobody  else  wants  to  be  just  where 
they  are,  and,  after  all,  it's  none  of  your  business;  you 
and  Bolton  are  great  moral  forty-pounders.  When  we  get 
you  pointed  the  right  way  for  the  paper  you  can  roar  and 
fire  away  at  your  leisure,  and  the  moral  effect  will  be  pro 
digious.  I  'm  your  flying-artillery  —  all  over  the  field 


HAPS  AND   MISHAPS  153 

everywhere,  pop,  and  off  again ;  and  what  is  it  to  you  what 
I  do  1  Now  you  see,  Hal,  you  must  just  have  some  general 
lines  about  your  work ;  the  fact  is,  I  ought  to  have  told 
you  before.  There  's  Sillery  and  Peacham's  books  have 
got  to  be  put  straight  along:  you  see  there  is  no  mistake 
about  that;  and  when  you  and  Bolton  find  one  you  can't 
praise  honestly,  turn  it  over  to  me.  Then,  again,  there  's 
Burill  and  Bangem's  books  have  got  to  be  put  down. 
They  had  a  row  with  us  last  year,  and  turned  over  their 
advertising  to  the  '  Spouting  Horn. '  Now,  if  you  happen 
to  find  a  bad  novel  among  their  books,  show  it  up,  cut  into 
it  without  mercy;  it  will  give  you  just  as  good  a  chance  to 
preach,  with  your  muzzle  pointed  the  right  way,  and  do 
exactly  as  much  good.  You  see,  there  's  everything  with 
you  fellows  in  getting  you  pointed  right." 

"But,"  said  I,  "Jim,  this  course  is  utterly  subversive  of 
all  just  criticism.  It  makes  book  notices  good  for  nothing." 

"Well,  they  are  not  good  for  much,"  said  Jim  reflec 
tively.  "I  sometimes  pity  a  poor  devil  whose  first  book 
has  been  all  cut  up,  just  because  Goldstick  's  had  a  row 
with  his  publishers.  But  then  there  's  this  comfort,  what 
we  run  down  the  '  Spouting  Horn '  will  run  up,  so  it  is 
about  as  broad  as  it  is  long.  Then  there  's  our  magazines. 
We  're  in  with  the  'Rocky  Mountains'  now  —  we  've 
been  out  with  them  for  a  year  or  two  and  cut  up  all  their 
articles.  Now  you  see,  we  are  in,  and  the  rule  is,  to  begin 
at  the  beginning  and  praise  them  all  straight  through,  so 
you  '11  have  plain  sailing  there.  Then  there  's  the  *  Pacific  ' 
—  you  are  to  pick  on  that  all  you  can.  I  think  you  had 
better  leave  that  to  me.  I  have  a  talent  for  saying  little 
provoking  things  that  gall  people,  and  that  they  can't  an 
swer.  The  fact  is,  the  *  Pacific  '  has  got  to  come  down  a 
little,  and  come  to  our  terms,  before  we  are  civil  to  it." 

"Jim  Fellows "  —  I  began. 

"  Come,  come,  go  and  let  off  to  Bolton,  if  you  have  got 


154  MY  WIFE  AND  I 

anything  more  to  say;"  he  added,  "I  want  to  write  my 
Boston  letter.  You  see,  Hal,  I  shall  bring  you  out  with 
flying  colors,  and  get  a  better  sale  for  the  book  than  if  you 
hadn't  written." 

"Jim,"  said  I,  "I  'm  going  to  get  out  of  this  paper." 
"And  pray,  my  dear  sir,  what  will  you  get  into? " 
"I  '11  get  into  one  of  the  religious  papers." 
Jim  upon  this  leaned  back,   kicked  up  his  heels,   and 
laughed  aloud.      "I  could  help  you  there,"  he  said.      "I 
do  the  literary  for  three  religious  newspapers  now.      These 
solemn  old  Dons  are  so  busy  about  their  tweedle-dums  and 
tweedle-dees    of   justification    and    election,    baptism    and 
church  government,  that  they  don't  know  anything  about 
current  literature,  and  get  us  fellows  to  write  their  book 
notices.      I  rather  think  that  they  'd  stare  if  they  should 
read    some  of    the  books  that  -we  puff  up.      I   tell   you, 
Christy's  Minstrels  are  nothing  to  it.      Think  of  it,  Hal, 

—  the  solemn  c  Holy  Sentinel '  with  a  laudatory  criticism  of 
Dante  Rossetti's  *  Jenny  '  in  it  —  and  the  '  Trumpet  of  Zion  ' 
with  a  commendatory  notice  of    George   Sand's    novels." 
Here  Jim  laughed  with  a  fresh  impulse.      "You  see,  the 
dear,  good  souls  are  altogether  too  pious  to  know  anything 
about  it,  and  so  we  liberalize  the  papers,  and  the  publish 
ers  make  us  a  little  consideration  for  getting  their  books 
started  in  religious  circles." 

"Well,  Jim,"  said  I,  "I  want  to  just  ask  you,  do  you 
think  this  sort  of  thing  is  right  ? " 

"Bless  your  soul  now! "  said  Jim,  "if  you  are  going  to 
begin  with  that,  here  in  New  York,  where  are  you  going 
to  end  —  '  Where  do  you  'spect  to  die  when  you  go  to? ' 

—  as  the  old  darky  said." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "would  you  like  to  have  Dante  Eos- 
setti's  '  Jenny  '  put  into  the  hands  of  your  sister  or  younger 
brother,  recommended  by  a  religious  newspaper  ?  " 

"Well,    to  tell  the   truth,    Hal,   I    didn't  write   those 


HAPS  AND  MISHAPS  155 

notices.  Bill  Jones  wrote  them.  Bill 's  up  to  anything. 
You  know  every  person  in  England  and  this  country  has 
praised  Dante  Eossetti,  and  particularly  '  Jenny, '  and  reli 
gious  papers  may  as  well  be  out  of  the  world  as  out  of 
fashion,  —  and  so  mother  she  bought  a  copy  for  a  Christ 
mas  present  to  sister  Nell.  And  I  tell  you  if  I  did  n't  get 
a  going  over  about  it ! 

"I  showed  her  the  article  in  the  'Holy  Sentinel,'  but 
it  didn't  do  a  bit  of  good.  She  made  me  promise  I 
wouldn't  write  it  up,  and  I  never  have.  She  said  it  was 
a  shame.  You  see  mother  is  n't  up  to  the  talk  about  high 
art,  that 's  got  up  nowadays  about  Dante  Eossetti  and 
Swinburne,  and  those.  I  thought  myself  that  '  Jenny ' 
was  coming  it  pretty  strong,  —  and  honest  now,  I  never 
could  see  the  sense  in  it.  But  then,  you  see,  I  am  not  artis 
tic.  If  a  fellow  should  tell  a  story  of  that  kind  to  my 
sister,  I  should  horsewhip  him,  and  kick  him  down  the 
front  steps.  But  he  dresses  it  up  in  poetry,  and  it  lies 
around  on  pious  people's  tables,  and  nobody  dares  to  say 
a  word  because  it 's  'artistic.'  People  are  so  afraid  they 
shall  not  be  supposed  to  understand  what  high  art  is  that 
they  '11  knuckle  down  under  most  anything.  That 's  the 
kind  of  world  we  live  in.  Well,  I  did  n't  make  the  world, 
and  I  don't  govern  it.  But  the  world  owes  me  a  living, 
and  hang  it !  it  shall  give  me  one.  So  you  go  up  to  Bol- 
ton,  and  leave  me  to  do  my  work;  I've  got  to  write  col 
umns,  and  then  tramp  out  to  that  confounded  water-color 
exhibition,  because  I  promised  Snooks  a  puff,  —  I  sha'n't 
get  to  bed  till  twelve  or  one.  I  tell  you,  it 's  steep  on  a 
fellow  now." 

I  went  up  to  Bolton,  boiling  and  bubbling  and  seething, 
with  the  spirit  of  sixteen  reformers  in  my  veins.  The 
scene,  as  I  opened  the  door,  was  sufficiently  tranquilizing. 
Bolton  sat  reading  by  the  side  of  his  shaded  study-lamp, 
with  his  cat  asleep  in  his  lap;  the  ill-favored  dog,  before 


156  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

mentioned,  was  planted  by  his  side,  with  his  nose  upturned, 
surveying  him  with  a  fullness  of  doggish  adoration  and 
complacency,  which  made  his  rubbishy  shop-worn  figure 
quite  an  affecting  item  in  the  picture.  Crouched  down  on 
the  floor  in  the  corner  was  a  ragged,  unkempt,  freckle- 
faced  little  boy,  busy  doing  a  sum  on  a  slate. 

"Ah,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  up  and  saw  me. 
"Come  in;  there,  there,  Snubby,"  he  said  to  the  dog, 
pushing  him  gently  into  his  corner,  "let  the  gentleman  sit 
down.  You  see,  you  find  me  surrounded  by  my  family," 
he  said.  "Wait  one  minute,"  he  added,  turning  to  the 
boy  in  the  corner,  and  taking  his  slate  out  of  his  hand, 
and  running  over  the  sum.  "All  right,  Bill.  Now  here  's 
your  book. "  He  took  a  volume  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights  " 
from  the  table,  and  handed  it  to  him,  and  Bill  settled  him 
self  on  the  floor,  and  was  soon  lost  in  Sindbad  the  Sailor. 
He  watched  him  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  looked  round 
at  me,  with  a  smile.  "I  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  bet  that 
you  might  shout  in  that  fellow's  ear  and  he  wouldn't  hear 
you,  now  he  is  fairly  in  upon  that  book.  Isn't  it  worth 
while  to  be  able  to  give  such  perfect  bliss  in  this  world  at 
so  small  an  expense?  I've  lost  the  power  of  reading  the 
'  Arabian  Nights, '  but  I  comfort  myself  in  seeing  this  chap. " 

"Who  is  he?"  said! 

"Oh,  he's  my  washerwoman's  boy.  Poor  fellow!  He 
has  hard  times.  I  've  set  him  up  in  selling  newspapers. 
You  see,  I  try  now  and  then  to  pick  up  one  grain  out  of 
the  heap  of  misery,  and  put  it  into  the  heap  of  happiness, 
as  John  Newton  said." 

I  was  still  bubbling  with  the  unrest  of  my  spirit,  and 
finally  overflowed  upon  him  with  the  whole  history  of  my 
day's  misadventures,  and  all  the  troubled  thoughts  and 
burning  indignations  that  I  had  with  reference  to  it. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "take  it  easy.  We  have  to 
accept  this  world  as  a  fait  accompli.  It  takes  some  time 


HAPS  AND  MISHAPS  157 

for  us  to  learn  how  little  we  can  do  to  help  or  to  hinder. 
You  cannot  take  a  step  in  the  business  of  life  anywhere 
without  meeting  just  this  kind  of  thing;  and  one  part  of  the 
science  of  living  is  to  learn  just  what  our  own  responsibility 
is,  and  to  let  other  people's  alone.  The  fact  is,"  he  said, 
"the  growth  of  current  literature  in  our  times  has  been  so 
sudden  and  so  enormous  that  things  are  in  a  sort  of  revolu 
tionary  state  with  regard  to  it,  in  which  it  is  very  difficult 
to  ascertain  the  exact  right.  For  example,  I  am  connected 
with  a  paper  which  is  simply  and  purely,  at  bottom,  a  finan 
cial  speculation ;  its  owners  must  make  money.  Now,  they 
are  not  bad  men  as  the  world  goes  —  they  are  well-meaning 
men  —  amiable,  patriotic,  philanthropic  —  some  of  them 
are  religious;  they,  all  of  them,  would  rather  virtue  would 
prevail  than  vice,  and  good  than  evil;  they,  all  of  them, 
would  desire  every  kind  of  abuse  to  be  reformed,  and  every 
good  cause  to  be  forwarded  that  could  be  forwarded  with 
out  a  sacrifice  of  their  main  object.  As  for  me,  I  am  not 
a  holder  or  proprietor.  I  am  simply  a  servant  engaged  by 
these  people  for  a  certain  sum.  If  I  should  sell  myself  to 
say  what  I  do  not  think,  or  to  praise  what  I  consider  harm 
ful,  to  propitiate  their  favor,  I  should  be  a  dastard.  They 
understand  perfectly  that  I  never  do  it,  and  they  never  ask 
me  to.  Meanwhile,  they  employ  persons  who  will  do 
these  things.  I  am  not  responsible  for  it  any  more  than 
I  am  for  anything  else  which  goes  on  in  the  city  of  New 
York.  I  am  allowed  my  choice  among  notices,  and  I  never 
write  them  without  saying,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  the 
exact  truth,  whether  literary  or  in  a  moral  point  of  view. 
Now,  that  is  just  my  stand,  and  if  it  satisfies  you,  you  can 
take  the  same." 

"But,"  said  I,  "it  makes  me  indignant  to  have  Gold- 
stick  talk  to  me  as  he  did  about  a  great  self-denying  moral 
enterprise  —  why,  that  man  must  know  he  's  a  liar." 

"Do  you  think  so?"   said  he.      "I  don't  imagine  he 


158  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

does.  Goldstick  has  considerable  sentiment.  It 's  quite 
easy  to  get  him  excited  on  moral  subjects,  and  he  dearly 
loves  to  hear  himself  talk  —  he  is  sincerely  interested  in  a 
good  number  of  moral  reforms,  so  long  as  they  cost  him 
nothing;  and  when  a  man  is  working  his  good  faculties, 
he  is  generally  delighted  with  himself,  and  it  is  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  to  think  that  there  is  more  of 
him  than  there  is.  I  am  often  put  in  mind  of  that  enthu 
siastic  young  ruler  that  came  to  the  Saviour,  who  had  kept 
all  the  commandments,  and  seemed  determined  to  be  on 
the  high  road  to  saintship.  The  Saviour  just  touched  him 
on  this  financial  question,  and  he  wilted  in  a  minute.  I 
consider  that  to  be  still  the  test  question,  and  there  are  a 
good  many  young  rulers  like  him,  who  don't  keep  all  the 
commandments. " 

"Your  way  of  talking,"  said  I,  "seems  to  do  away  with 
all  moral  indignation." 

He  smiled,  and  then  looked  sadly  into  the  fire.  "God 
help  us  all,"  he  said.  "We  are  all  struggling  in  the  water 
together  and  pulling  one  another  under  —  our  best  virtues 
are  such  a  miserable  muddle  —  and  then  —  there's  the 
beam  in  our  own  eye." 

There  was  a  depth  of  pathos  in  his  dark  eyes  as  he 
spoke,  and  suddenly  a  smile  flashed  over  his  features,  and 
looking  around,  he  said :  — 

"  So,  what  do  you  think  of  that,  my  cat, 
And  what  do  you  think  of  that,  my  dog  ?  " 


CHAPTEE   XIV 

I    MEET    A    VISIOX 

"I  SAY,  Hal,  do  you  want  to  get  acquainted  with  any  of 
the  P.  G. 's  here  in  New  York?  If  you  do,  I  can  put  you 
on  the  track." 

"P.  G.'s?"  said  I  innocently. 

"Yes;  you  know  that's  what  Plato  calls  pretty  girls. 
I  don't  believe  you  remember  your  Greek.  I  'm  going  out 
this  evening  where  there's  a  lot  of  'em  —  splendid  house 
on  Fifth  Avenue  —  lots  of  tin  —  girls  gracious.  Don't 
know  which  of  'em  I  shall  take  yet.  Don't  you  want  to 
go  with  me  and  see  *\  " 

Jim  stood  at  the  looking-glass  brushing  his  hair  and 
arranging  his  necktie. 

"Jim  Fellows,  you  are  a  coxcomb,"  said  I. 

"I  don't  know  why  I  shouldn't  be,'7  said  he.  "The 
girls  fairly  throw  themselves  at  one's  head.  They  are  up 
to  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Besides,  I  'm  on  the  lookout  for 
my  fortune,  and  it  all  comes  in  the  way  of  business. 
Come,  now,  don't  sit  there  writing  all  the  evening.  Come 
out,  and  let  me  show  you  New  York  by  gaslight." 

"No,"  said  I;  "I  've  got  to  finish  up  this  article  for  the 
'  Milky  Way. '  The  fact  is,  a  fellow  must  be  industrious  to 
make  anything,  and  my  time  for  seeing  girls  isn't  come 
yet.  I  must  have  something  to  support  a  wife  on  before 
I  look  round  in  that  direction." 

"The  idea,  Harry,  of  a  good-looking  fellow  like  you  not 
making  the  most  of  his  advantages !  Why,  there  are  nice 
girls  in  this  city  that  could  help  you  up  faster  than  all  the 


160  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

writing  you  can  do  these  ten  years.  And  you  sitting, 
moiling  and  toiling,  when  you  ought  to  be  making  some 
lovely  woman  happy  !  " 

"I  shall  never  marry  for  money,  Jim,  you  may  depend 
upon  that." 

"  '  Baa,  baa,  black  sheep,'  "  said  Jim.  "Who  is  talking 
about  marrying  for  money  ?  A  fine  girl  is  none  the  worse 
for  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  I  can  give  you  a  list  of 
twenty  that  you  can  go  round  among  until  you  fall  in  love, 
and  not  come  amiss  anywhere,  if  it 's  falling  in  love  that 
you  want  to  do." 

"Oh,  come,  Jim,"  said  I,  "do  finish  your  toilet  and  be 
off  with  yourself  if  you  are  going.  I  don't  blame  a  woman 
who  marries  for  money,  since  the  whole  world  has  always 
agreed  to  shut  her  out  of  any  other  way  of  gaining  an 
independence.  But  for  a  man,  with  every  other  avenue 
open  to  him,  to  mouse  about  for  a  rich  wife,  I  think  is 
too  dastardly  for  anything." 

"That  would  make  a  fine  point  for  a  paragraph,"  said 
Jim,  turning  round  to  me,  with  perfect  good-humor.  "  So 
I  advise  you  to  save  it  for  the  moral  part  of  the  paper. 
You  see,  if  you  waste  too  much  of  that  sort  of  thing  on 
me,  your  mill  may  run  low.  It 's  a  deuced  hard  thing  to 
keep  the  moral  a-going  the  whole  year,  you  '11  find." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  am  going  to  try  to  make  a  home 
for  a  wife,  by  good,  thorough  work,  done  just  as  work 
ought  to  be  done;  and  I  have  no  time  to  waste  on  society 
in  the  mean  while." 

"And  when  you  are  ready  for  her,"  said  Jim,  "I  sup 
pose  you  expect  to  receive  her  per  '  Divine  Providence ' 
Express,  ticketed  and  labeled,  and  expenses  paid.  Or, 
maybe  she  '11  be  brought  to  you  some  time  by  genii,  as 
the  Princess  of  China  was  brought  to  the  Prince  of  Tar- 
tary,  when  he  was  asleep.  I  used  to  read  about  that  in 
the  Arabian  tales." 


I   MEET   A   VISION  161 

I  give  this  little  passage  of  my  conversation  with  Jim, 
because  it  is  a  pretty  good  illustration  of  the  axiom  that 
"It  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his  steps." 
When  we  have  announced  any  settled  purpose  or  sublime 
intention  in  regard  to  our  future  course  of  life,  it  seems 
to  be  the  delight  of  fortune  to  throw  us  directly  into  cir 
cumstances  in  which  we  shall  be  tempted  to  do  what  we 
have  just  declared  we  never  will  do,  and  the  fortunes  of 
our  lives  turn  upon  the  most  inconsiderable  hinges.  Mine 
turned  upon  an  umbrella. 

The  next  morning  I  had  business  in  the  very  lowermost 
part  of  the  city,  and  started  off  without  my  umbrella;  but 
being  weather-wise,  and  discerning  the  face  of  the  sky,  I 
went  back  to  my  room  and  took  it.  It  was  one  of  those 
little  pet  objects  of  vertu  to  which  a  bachelor  sometimes 
treats  himself  in  lieu  of  domestic  luxuries.  It  had  a  finely 
carved  handle,  which  I  bought  in  Dieppe,  and  which  caused 
it  to  be  peculiar  among  all  the  umbrellas  in  New  York. 

It  was  one  of  those  uncertain,  capricious  days  that  mark 
the  coming  in  of  April,  when  Nature,  like  a  nervous 
beauty,  does  n't  seem  to  know  her  own  mind,  and  laughs 
one  moment  and  cries  the  next  with  a  perplexing  uncer 
tainty.  The  first  part  of  the  morning  the  amiable  and 
smiling  predominated,  and  I  began  to  regret  that  I  had 
encumbered  myself  with  the  troublesome  precaution  of  an 
umbrella  while  tramping  around  down  town.  In  this 
mood  of  mind  I  sat  at  Fulton  Ferry  waiting  the  starting 
of  the  Bleecker  Street  car,  when  suddenly  the  scene  was 
enlivened  to  my  view  by  the  entrance  of  a  young  lady,  who 
happened  to  seat  herself  exactly  opposite  to  me. 

Now,  as  a  writer,  an  observer  of  life  and  manners,  I  had 
often  made  quiet  studies  of  the  fair  flowers  of  modern  New 
York  society  as  I  rode  up  and  down  in  the  cars.  In  no 
other  country  in  the  world,  perhaps,  has  a  man  the  oppor 
tunity  of  being  vis-a-vis  with  the  best  and  most  cultured 


162  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

class  of  young  women  in  the  public  conveyances.  In  Eng 
land,  this  class  are  veiled  and  secluded  from  gaze  by  all  the 
ordinances  and  arrangements  of  society.  They  go  out  only 
in  their  own  carriages;  they  travel  in  reserved  compart 
ments  of  the  railway  carriages;  they  pass  from  these  to 
reserved  apartments  in  the  hotels  where  they  are  served 
apart  in  family  privacy  as  much  as  in  their  own  dwellings. 
So  that  the  stranger  traveling  in  the  country,  unless  he 
have  introductions  to  the  personal  hospitality  of  these  cir 
cles,  has  almost  no  way  of  forming  any  opinion  even  as  to 
the  external  appearance  of  its  younger  women.  In  France, 
a  still  stricter  regime  watches  over  the  young,  unmarried 
girl,  who  is  kept  in  the  shade  of  an  almost  conventual  seclu 
sion  till  marriage  opens  the  doors  of  her  prison.  The  young 
American  girl,  however,  of  the  better  and  of  the  best  classes 
is  to  be  met  and  observed  everywhere.  She  moves  through 
life  with  the  assured  step  of  a  princess,  too  certain  of  her  po 
sition  and  familiar  with  her  power  even  to  dream  of  a  fear. 
She  looks  on  her  surroundings  from  above  with  the  eye  of  a 
mistress,  and  expects,  of  course,  to  see  all  things  give  way 
before  her,  as  in  our  republican  society  they  generally  do. 

During  the  few  months  I  had  spent  in  New  York  I  had 
diligently  kept  out  of  society.  The  permitted  silent  ac 
quaintance  with  my  fair  countrywomen  which  I  gained 
while  riding  up  and  down  in  street  conveyances  became, 
therefore,  a  favorite  and  harmless  source  of  amusement. 
Not  an  item  in  the  study  escaped  me,  not  a  feather  in  that 
rustling  and  wonderful  plumage  of  fashion  that  bore  them 
up  was  unnoted.  I  mused  on  styles  and  characteristics, 
and  silently  wove  in  my  own  mind  histories  to  correspond 
with  the  various  physiognomies  I  studied.  Let  not  the 
reader  imagine  me  staring  point-blank,  with  my  mouth 
open,  at  all  I  met.  The  art  of  noting  without  appearing 
to  note,  of  seeing  without  seeming  to  see,  was  one  that  I 
cultivated  with  assiduity. 


I  MEET  A   VISION  163 

Therefore,  without  any  impertinent  scrutiny,  I  satisfied 
myself  of  the  fact  that  a  feminine  presence  of  an  unusual 
kind  and  quality  was  opposite  to  me.  It  was,  at  first 
glance,  one  of  the  New  York  princesses  of  the  blood,  accus 
tomed  to  treading  on  clouds  and  breathing  incense.  There 
was  a  quiet  savoir  faire  and  self-possession  as  she  sat  down 
on  her  seat,  as  if  it  were  a  throne ;  and  there  was  a  species 
of  repressed  vitality  and  decision  in  all  her  little  involun 
tary  movements  that  interested  me  as  live  things  always  do 
interest,  in  proportion  to  their  quantum  of  life.  We  all 
are  familiar  with  the  fact  that  there  are  some  people,  who, 
let  them  sit  still  as  they  may,  and  conduct  themselves  never 
so  quietly,  nevertheless  impress  their  personality  on  those 
around  them,  and  make  their  presence  felt.  An  attraction 
of  this  sort  drew  my  eyes  toward  my  neighbor.  She  was 
a  young  lady  of  medium  height,  slender  and  elastic  figure, 
features  less  regularly  beautiful  than  piquant  and  expres 
sive.  I  remarked  a  pair  of  fine  dark  eyes  the  more  from 
the  contrast  with  a  golden  crepe  of  hair.  The  combination 
of  dark  eyes  and  lashes  with  fair  hair  always  produces 
effect  of  a  striking  character.  She  was  attired  as  became 
a  Fifth  Avenue  princess,  who  has  the  world  of  fashion  at 
her  feet,  —  yet,  to  ray  thinking,  as  one  who  had  chosen 
and  adapted  her  material  with  an  eye  of  taste.  A  delicate 
cashmere  was  folded  carelessly  round  her  shoulders,  and 
her  little  hands  were  gloved  with  a  careful  nicety  of  fit; 
and  dangling  from  one  finger  was  a  toy  purse  of  gold  and 
pearl,  in  which  she  began  searching  for  the  change  to  pay 
her  fare.  I  saw,  too,  as  she  investigated,  an  expression 
of  perplexity,  slightly  tinged  with  the  ludicrous,  upon  her 
face.  I  perceived  at  a  glance  the  matter.  She  was  sur 
veying  a  ten-dollar  note  with  a  glance  of  amused  vexation, 
and  vainly  turning  over  her  little  purse  for  the  smaller 
change  or  tickets  available  in  the  situation.  I  leaned  for 
ward  and  offered,  as  gentlemen  generally  do,  to  take  her 


164  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

fare  and  pass  it  forward.  With  a  smile  of  apology  she 
handed  me  the  bill,  and  showed  the  little  empty  purse. 
"Allow  me  to  arrange  it,"  I  said.  She  smiled  and  blushed. 
I  passed  up  the  ticket  necessary  for  the  occasion,  returned 
her  bill,  bowed,  and  immediately  looked  another  way  with 
sedulous  care. 

It  requires  an  extra  amount  of  discretion  and  delicacy  to 
make  it  tolerable  to  a  true  lady  to  become  in  the  smallest 
degree  indebted  to  a  gentleman  who  is  a  stranger.  I  was 
aware  that  my  fair  vis-a-vis  was  inwardly  disturbed  at 
having  inadvertently  been  obliged  to  accept  from  me  even 
so  small  an  obligation  as  a  fare  ticket ;  but  as  matters  were, 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  On  the  whole,  though  I  was 
sorry  for  her,  I  could  not  but  regard  the  incident  as  a  spe 
cies  of  good  luck  for  myself.  We  rode  along  —  perhaps 
each  of  us  conscious  at  times  of  being  attentively  considered 
by  the  other,  until  the  car  turned  up  Park  Row,  before 
the  Astor  House;  she  signaled  the  conductor  to  stop,  and 
got  out.  Here  it  was  that  the  beneficent  intentions  of  the 
fates,  in  causing  me  to  bring  my  umbrella,  were  made 
manifest. 

Just  as  the  car  started  again,  came  one  of  those  sudden 
gushes  of  rain  with  which  perverse  April  delights  to  ruffle 
and  discompose  unwary  passengers.  It  was  less  a  decent, 
decorous  shower  than  a  dash  of  water  by  the  bucketful. 
Immediately  I  jumped  out  and  stepped  to  the  side  of  my 
gentle  neighbor,  begging  her  to  allow  me  to  hold  my  um 
brella  over  her,  and  see  her  in  safety  across  Broadway. 
She  meant  to  have  stopped  at  one  or  two  places,  she  said, 
but  it  rained  so  she  would  thank  me  to  put  her  into  a  Fifth 
Avenue  stage.  So  we  went  together,  threading  our  way 
through  rushing  and  trampling  carriages,  horses,  and  cars, 
—  a  driving  storm  above,  below,  and  around,  which  seemed 
to  throw  my  fair  princess  entirely  upon  my  protection  for 
a  few  moments,  till  I  had  her  safe  in  the  up-town  omnibus. 


I  MEET   A   VISION  1G5 

As  it  was  my  route,  also,  I,  too,  entered,  and  by  this  time 
feeling  a  sort  of  privilege  of  acquaintance,  arranged  the 
fare  for  her,  and  again  received  a  courteous  and  apologetic 
acknowledgment.  Before  a  very  elegant  house  in  Fifth 
Avenue  my  unknown  alighted,  and  the  rain  still  continu 
ing,  there  was  an  excuse  for  my  attending  her  up  the  steps, 
and  ringing  the  door-bell  for  her. 

We  were  kept  waiting  in  this  position  several  minutes, 
when  she  very  gracefully  expressed  her  thanks  for  my 
kindness,  and  begged  that  I  would  walk  in. 

Surprised  and  pleased,  I  excused  myself  on  plea  of  en 
gagements,  but  presented  her  with  my  card,  and  said  I 
would  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  at  another  time. 

With  a  little  laugh  and  blush  she  handed  me  a  card  from 
a  tiny  pearl  and  gold  case,  on  which  was  engraved  "Eva 
Van  Arsdel,"  and  in  the  corner,  "Wednesdays." 

"We  receive  on  Wednesdays,  Mr.  Henderson,"  she  said, 
"and  mamma  will  be  so  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

Here  the  door  opened,  and  my  fairy  princess  vanished 
from  view,  with  a  parting  vision  of  a  blush,  smile,  and 
bow,  and  I  was  left  outside  with  the  rain  and  the  mud  and 
the  dull,  commonplace  grind  of  my  daily  work. 

The  house,  as  I  noted  it,  was  palatial  in  its  aspect. 
Clear,  large  windows,  which  seemed  a  single  sheet  of  crys 
tal,  gave  a  view  of  banks  of  flowering  hyacinths,  daffodils, 
crocuses,  and  roses,  curtained  in  by  misty  falls  of  lace 
drapery.  Evidently  it  was  one  of  those  Circean  regions 
of  retreat,  where  the  lovely  daughters  of  fashionable  wealth 
in  New  York  keep  guard  over  an  eternal  lotus-eater's  para 
dise;  where  they  tread  on  enchanted  carpets,  move  to  the 
sound  of  music,  and  live  among  flowers  and  odors  a  life  of 
blissful  ignorance  of  toil  or  care. 

"To  what  purpose,"  I  thought  to  myself,  "should  I  call 
there,  or  pursue  the  vision  into  its  own  regions  ?  ^Eneas 
might  as  well  try  to  follow  Venus  to  the  scented  regions 


166  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

above  Idalia,  where  her  hundred  altars  forever  burn,  and 
her  flowers  never  die." 

But  yet  I  was  no  wiser  and  no  older  than  other  men  at 
three-and-twenty,  and  the  little  card  which  I  had  placed 
in  my  vest  pocket  seemed  to  diffuse  an  agreeable,  electric 
warmth,  which  constantly  reminded  me  of  its  presence 
there.  T  took  it  out  and  looked  at  it.  I  spelled  the  name 
over,  and  dwelt  on  every  letter.  There  was  so  much  posi 
tive  character  in  the  little  lady,  —  such  a  sort  of  spicy, 
racy  individuality,  that  the  little  I  had  seen  of  her  was  like 
reading  the  first  page  of  an  enchanting  romance,  and  I 
could  not  repress  a  curiosity  to  go  on  with  it.  To-day  was 
Monday;  the  reception  day  was  Wednesday.  Should  I 
go? 

Prudence  said,  "No;  you  are  a  young  man  with  your 
way  to  make;  you  are  self-dependent;  you  are  poor;  you 
have  no  time  to  spend  in  helping  rich  idle  people  to  hunt 
butterflies,  and  string  rose-leaves,  and  make  dandelion- 
chains.  If  you  set  your  foot  over  one  of  those  enchanted 
thresholds,  where  wealth  and  idleness  rule  together,  you 
will  be  bewildered,  enervated,  and  spoiled  for  any  really 
high  or  severe  task-work;  you  will  become  an  idler,  a 
dangler;  the  power  of  sustained  labor  and  self-denial  will 
depart  from  you,  and  you  will  run  like  a  breathless  lackey 
after  the  chariot  of  wealth  and  fashion." 

On  the  other  hand,  as  the  little  bit  of  enchanted  paste 
board  gently  burned  in  my  vest  pocket,  it  said :  — 

"  Why  should  you  be  rude  1  It  is  incumbent  on  you  as 
a  gentleman  to  respond  to  the  invitation  so  frankly  given. 
Besides,  the  writer  who  aspires  to  influence  society  must 
know  society;  and  how  can  one  know  society  unless  one 
studies  it  ?  A  hermit  in  his  cell  is  no  judge  of  what  is 
going  on  in  the  world.  Besides,  he  does  not  overcome  the 
world  who  runs  away  from  it,  but  he  who  meets  it  bravely. 
It  is  the  part  of  a  coward  to  be  afraid  of  meeting  wealth 


I  MEET  A  VISION  167 

and  luxury  and  indolence  on  their  own  grounds.  He  really 
conquers  who  can  keep  awake,  walking  straight  through 
the  enchanted  ground;  not  he  who  makes  a  detour  to  get 
round  it." 

All  which  I  had  arrayed  in  good  set  terms  as  I  rode  back 
to  my  room,  and  went  up  to  Bolton  to  look  up  in  his  library 
the  authorities  for  an  article  I  was  getting  out  on  the  Do 
mestic  Life  of  the  Ancient  Greeks.  Bolton  had  succeeded 
in  making  me  feel  so  thoroughly  at  home  in  his  library  that 
it  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  as  if  it  were  my  own. 

As  I  was  tumbling  over  the  books  that  filled  every  cor 
ner,  there  fell  out  from  a  little  niche  a  photograph,  or 
rather  ambrotype,  such  as  were  in  use  in  the  infancy  of 
the  art.  It  fell  directly  into  my  hand,  so  that  taking  it 
up  it  was  impossible  not  to  perceive  what  it  was,  and  I 
recognized  in  an  instant  the  person.  It  was  the  head  of 
my  Cousin  Caroline,  not  as  I  knew  her  now,  but  as  I  re 
membered  her  years  ago,  when  she  and  I  went  to  the 
Academy  together. 

It  is  almost  an  involuntary  thing,  on  such  occasions,  to 
exclaim,  "  Who  is  this  ?  "  But  Bolton  was  so  very  reticent 
a  being  that  I  found  it  extremely  difficult  to  ask  him  a 
personal  question.  There  are  individuals  who  unite  a 
great  winning  and  sympathetic  faculty  with  great  reticence. 
They  make  you  talk,  they  win  your  confidence,  they  are 
interested  in  you,  but  they  ask  nothing  from  you,  and  they 
tell  you  nothing.  Bolton  was  all  the  while  doing  obliging 
things  for  me  and  for  Jim,  but  he  asked  nothing  from  us; 
and  while  we  felt  safe  in  saying  anything  in  the  world 
before  him,  and  while  we  never  felt  at  the  moment  that 
conversation  flagged,  or  that  there  was  any  deficiency  in 
sympathy  and  good  fellowship  on  his  part,  yet  upon  reflec 
tion  we  could  never  recall  anything  which  let  us  into  the 
interior  of  his  own  life-history. 

The  finding  of  this  little  memento  impressed  me,  there- 


168  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

fore,  oddly,  —  as  if  a  door  had  suddenly  been  opened  into 
a  private  cabinet  where  I  had  no  right  to  look,  or  an  open 
letter  which  I  had  no  right  to  read  had  been  inadvertently 
put  into  my  hands.  I  looked  round  on  Bolton,  as  he  sat 
quietly  bending  over  a  book  that  he  was  consulting,  with 
his  pen  in  hand  and  his  cat  at  his  elbow;  but  the  question 
I  longed  to  ask  stuck  fast  in  my  throat,  and  I  silently  put 
back  the  picture  in  its  place,  keeping  the  incident  to  ponder 
in  my  heart.  What  with  the  one  pertaining  to  myself, 
and  with  the  thoughts  suggested  by  this,  I  found  myself  in 
a  disturbed  state  that  I  determined  to  resist  by  setting 
myself  a  definite  task  of  so  many  pages  of  my  article. 

In  the  evening,  when  Jim  came  in,  I  recounted  my 
adventure  and  showed  him  the  card. 

He  surveyed  it  with  a  prolonged  whistle.  "Good 
now!"  he  said;  "the  ticket  sent  by  the  Providence  Ex 
press.  I  see  "  — 

"  Who  are  these  Van  Arsdels,  Jim  ?  " 

"Upper  tens,"  said  Jim  decisively.  "Not  the  oldest 
Tens,  but  the  second  batch.  Not  the  old  Knickerbocker 
Vanderhoof,  and  Vanderhyde,  and  Vanderhorn  set  that 
Washy  Irving  tells  about,  —  but  the  modern  nobs.  Old 
Van  Arsdel  does  a  smashing  importing  business  —  is  worth 
his  millions  —  has  five  girls,  all  handsome  —  two  out  — 
two  more  to  come  out,  and  one  strong-minded  sister  who 
has  retired  from  the  world,  and  isn't  seen  out  anywhere. 
The  one  you  saw  was  Eva;  they  say  she  's  to  marry  Wat 
Sydney,  — the  greatest  match  there  is  going  in  New  York. 
How  do  you  say  —  shall  you  go,  Wednesday  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  them  1 " 

"Oh  yes.  Alice  Van  Arsdel  is  a  splendid  girl,  and  we 
are  good  friends,  and  I  look  in  on  them  sometimes  just  to 
give  them  the  light  of  my  countenance.  They  are  always 
after  me  to  lead  the  german  in  their  parties;  but  I've 
given  that  up.  Hang  it  all!  it's  too  steep  on  a  fellow 


I   MEET   A   VISIOX  169 

that  has  to  work  all  day,  with  no  let-up,  to  be  kept 
dancing  till  daylight  with  those  girls.  It  don't  pay !  " 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  I. 

"You  see,"  pursued  Jim,  "these  girls  have  nothing  un 
der  heaven  to  do,  and  when  they  7ve  danced  all  night,  they 
go  to  bed  and  sleep  till  eleven  or  twelve  o'clock  of  the 
next  day  and  get  their  rest;  while  we  fellows  have  to  be 
up  and  in  our  offices  at  eight  o'clock  next  morning.  The 
fact  is,  it  may  do  for  once  or  twice,  but  it  knocks  a  fellow 
up  pretty  fast.  It 's  a  bad  thing  for  the  fellows;  they  get 
to  taking  wine  and  brandy  and  one  thing  or  another  to 
keep  up,  and  the  Devil  only  knows  what  comes  of  it." 

"And  are  these  Van  Arsdels  in  that  frivolous  set?" 
said  I. 

"Well,  you  see  they  are  not  really  frivolous,  either; 
they  are  nice  girls,  well  educated,  graduated  at  the  Uni 
versal  Thingumbob  College,  where  they  teach  girls  every 
thing  that  ever  has  been  heard  of,  before  they  are  seven 
teen.  And  then  they  have  lived  in  Paris,  and  lived  in 
Germany,  and  lived  in  Italy,  and  picked  up  all  the  lan 
guages;  so  that  when  they  have  anything  to  say  they  have 
a  choice  of  four  languages  to  say  it  in." 

"And  have  they  anything  to  say  worth  hearing  in  any 
of  the  four  1  "  said  I. 

"Well,  yes,  now,  honor  bright.  There's  Alice  Van 
Arsdel:  she  's  ambitious  as  the  Devil,  but,  after  all,  a  good, 
warm-hearted  girl  under  it  —  and  smart!  there  's  no  doubt 
of  that." 

"And  this  lady?  "  said  I,  fingering  the  card. 

"Eva?  Well,  she's  had  a  great  run;  she 's  killing,  as 
they  say,  and  she's  pretty  —  no  denying  that;  and,  really, 
there  's  a  good  deal  to  her,  — like  the  sponge  cake  at  the 
bottom  of  the  trifle,  you  know,  with  a  good  smart  flavor  of 
wine  and  spice." 

"And  she  's  engaged  to  —  whom  did  you  say  ?  " 


170  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Wat  Sydney." 

"  And  what  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ? " 

"What  sort?  why,  he's  a  rich  man;  owns  all  sorts  of 
things,  —  gold  mines  in  California,  and  copper  mines  in 
Lake  Superior,  and  salt  works,  and  railroads.  In  fact,  the 
thing  is  to  say  what  he  doesn't  own.  Immense  head  for 
business,  —  regular  steel- trap  to  deal  with,  —  has  the  snap 
of  a  pike." 

"Pleasing  prospect  for  a  domestic  companion,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  I  believe  W^at  is  good-hearted  enough 
to  his  own  folks.  They  say  he  is  very  devoted  to  his  old 
mother  and  a  parcel  of  old-maid  aunts,  and  as  he  's  rich 
it 's  thought  a  great  virtue.  Nobody  sings  my  praises,  I 
notice,  because  I  mind  my  mammy  and  Aunt  Sarah.  You 
see,  it  takes  a  million-power  solar  microscope  to  bring  out 
fellows'  virtues." 

"  Is  the  gentleman  handsome  ?  " 

"Well,  if  he  was  poor,  nobody  would  think  much  of  his 
looks.  If  he  had,  say,  a  hundred  thousand  or  two,  he 
would  be  called  fair  to  middling  in  looks.  As  it  is,  the 
girls  rave  about  him.  He  's  been  after  Eva  now  for  six 
months,  and  the  other  girls  are  ready  to  tear  her  eyes  out. 
But  the  engagement  has  n't  come  out  yet.  I  think  she  's 
making  up  her  mind  to  him." 

"Not  in  love,  then?" 

"Well,  she  's  been  queen  so  long  she  's  blasee  and  diffi 
cult,  and  likes  to  play  with  her  fish  before  she  lands  him. 
But  of  course  she  must  have  him.  Girls  like  that  must 
have  money  to  keep  'em  up;  that's  the  first  requisite. 
I  tell  you  the  purple  and  fine  linen  of  these  princesses  come 
to  something.  Now,  as  rich  men  go,  she  'd  find  ten  worse 
than  Wat  where  there  's  one  better.  Then  she  's  been  out 
three  seasons.  There  's  Alice  just  come  out,  and  Alice  is 
a  stunner,  and  takes  tremendously !  And  then  there 's 
Angeline,  a  handsome,  spicy  little  witch,  smarter  than 


I  MEET  A  VISION  171 

either,  that  is  just  fluttering,  and  scratching,  and  tearing 
her  hair  with  impatience  to  have  her  turn.  And  behind 
Angeline  there's  Marie  —  she's  got  a  confounded  pair  of 
eyes.  So  you  see,  there  's  no  help  for  it;  Miss  Eva  must 
abdicate  and  make  room  for  the  next  comer." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "about  this  reception?" 

"Oh,  go,  by  all  means,"  said  Jim.  "It  will  be  fun. 
I  '11  go  with  you.  You  see  it 's  Lent  now,  thank  the 
stars !  and  so  there  's  no  dancing,  —  only  quiet  evenings 
and  lobster  salad;  because,  you  see,  we  're  all  repenting  of 
our  sins  and  getting  ready  to  go  at  it  again  after  Easter. 
A  fellow  now  can  go  to  receptions,  and  get  away  in  time  to 
have  a  night's  rest,  and  the  girls  now  and  then  talk  a  little 
sense  between  whiles.  They  can  talk  sense  when  they 
like,  though  one  wouldn't  believe  it  of  'em.  Well,  take 
care  of  yourself,  my  son,  and  I  '11  take  you  round  there  on 
Wednesday  evening."  And  Jim  went  whistling  down  the 
stairs,  leaving  me  to  finish  my  article  on  the  Domestic 
Life  of  the  Ancient  Greeks. 

I  remember  that  very  frequently  that  evening,  Avhile 
stopping  to  consider  how  I  should  begin  the  next  sentence, 
I  unconsciously  embellished  the  margin  of  my  manuscripts 
by  writing  "Eva,  Eva,  Eva  Van  Arsdel"  in  an  absent- 
minded,  mechanical  way.  In  fact,  from  that  time,  that 
name  began  often  to  obtrude  itself  on  every  bit  of  paper 
when  I  tried  my  pen. 

The  question  of  going  to  the  Wednesday  evening  recep 
tion  was  settled  in  the  affirmative.  What  was  to  hinder 
my  taking  a  look  at  fairy  land  in  a  purely  philosophical 
spirit  1  Nothing,  certainly.  If  she  were  engaged  she  was 
nothing  to  me,  —  never  would  be.  So,  clearly  there  was 
no  danger. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    GIRL    OF    OUR    PERIOD 

[Letter  from  Eva  Van  Arsdel  to  Mrs.  Courtney.] 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  AND  TEACHER,  —  I  scarcely  dare 
trust  myself  to  look  at  the  date  of  your  kind  letter.  Can 
it  really  be  that  I  have  let  it  lie  almost  a  year,  hoping, 
meaning,  sincerely  intending  to  answer  it,  and  yet  doing 
nothing  about  it?  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  I  was  a  better 
girl  while  I  was  under  your  care  than  I  am  now;  in  those 
times  I  really  did  my  duties;  I  never  put  off  things,  and 
I  came  somewhere  near  satisfying  myself.  Now,  I  live  in 
a  constant  whirl  —  a  whirl  that  never  ceases.  I  am  carried 
on  from  day  to  day,  from  week  to  week,  from  month  to 
month,  with  nothing  to  show  for  it  except  a  succession  of 
what  girls  call  "good  times."  I  don't  read  anything  but 
stories;  I  don't  study;  I  don't  write;  I  don't  sew;  I 
don't  draw,  or  play,  or  sing,  to  any  real  purpose.  I  just 
"go  into  society,"  as  they  call  it.  I  am  an  idler,  and  the 
only  thing  I  am  good  for  is  that  I  help  to  adorn  a  house 
for  the  entertainment  of  idlers  —  that  is  about  all. 

Now  Lent  has  come,  and  I  am  thankful  for  the  rest  from 
parties  and  dancing;  but  yet  Lent  makes  me  blue,  because 
it  gives  me  some  time  to  think;  and  besides  that,  when  all 
this  whirling  stops  awhile,  I  feel  how  dizzy  and  tired  it 
has  made  me.  And  then  I  think  of  all  that  you  used  to 
tell  me  about  the  real  object  of  life,  and  all  that  I  so  sin 
cerely  resolved  in  my  school-days  that  I  would  do  and  be, 
and  I  am  quite  in  despair  about  myself. 


THE   GIRL   OF  OUR   PERIOD  173 

It  is  three  years  since  I  really  "came  out,"  as  the  phrase 
goes.  Up  to  that  time  I  was  far  happier  than  I  have  been 
since,  because  I  satisfied  myself  better.  You  always  said, 
dear  friend,  that  I  was  a  good  scholar,  and  faithful  to  every 
duty;  and  those  days,  when  I  had  a  definite  duty  for  each 
hour,  and  did  it  well,  were  days  when  I  liked  myself  bet 
ter  than  now.  I  did  enjoy  study.  I  enjoyed  our  three 
years  in  Europe,  too,  for  then,  with  much  variety  and  many 
pleasures,  I  had  regular  studies;  I  was  learning  something, 
and  did  not  feel  that  I  was  a  mere  do-nothing. 

But  since  I  have  been  going  into  company  I  am  perfectly 
sick  of  myself.  For  the  first  year  it  was  new  to  me,  and 
I  was  light-headed  and  thought  it  glorious  fun.  It  was 
excitement  all  the  time  —  dressing,  and  going,  and  seeing, 
and  being  admired,  and  —  well,  flirting.  I  confess  I  liked 
it,  and  went  into  it  with  all  my  might  —  parties,  balls, 
operas,  concerts  all  the  winter  in  New  York,  and  parties, 
balls,  etc.,  at  Newport  and  Saratoga  in  summer.  It  was 
a  sort  of  prolonged  delirium.  I  didn't  stop  to  think  about 
anything,  and  lived  like  a  butterfly,  by  the  hour.  Oh,  the 
silly  things  I  have  said  and  done !  I  find  myself  blushing 
hot  when  I  think  of  them,  because,  you  see,  I  am  so  ex 
citable,  and  sometimes  am  so  carried  away  that  afterward 
I  don't  know  what  I  may  have  said  or  done! 

And  now  all  this  is  coming  to  some  end  or  other.  This 
going  into  company  can't  last  forever.  We  must  be  mar 
ried —  that 's  what  we  are  for,  they  say;  that's  what  all 
this  dressing,  and  dancing,  and  flying  about  has  got  to  end 
in.  And  so  mamma  and  Aunt  Maria  are  on  thorns  to  get 
me  off  their  hands  and  well  established.  I  have  been  out 
three  seasons.  I  am  twenty-three,  and  Alice  has  just  come 
out,  and  it  is  expected,  of  course,  that  I  retire  with  honor. 
I  will  not  stop  to  tell  you  that  I  have  rejected  about  the 
usual  number  of  offers  that  young  ladies  in  my  position 
get,  and  I  have  n't  seen  anybody  that  I  care  a  copper  for. 


174  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Well,  now,  in  this  crisis  comes  this  Mr.  Sydney,  who 
proposed  to  me  last  fall,  and  I  refused  point-blank,  simply 
and  only  because  I  did  n't  love  him,  which  seemed  to  me 
at  that  time  reason  enough.  Then  mamma  and  Aunt  Maria 
took  up  the  case,  and  told  me  that  I  was  a  foolish  girl  to 
throw  away  such  an  offer:  a  man  of  good  character  and 
standing,  an  excellent  business  man,  and  so  immensely  rich 
—  with  such  a  splendid  place  at  Newport,  and  another  in 
New  York,  and  a  fortune  like  Aladdin's  lamp! 

I  said  I  didn't  love  him,  and  they  said  I  hadn't  tried; 
that  I  could  love  him  if  I  only  made  up  my  mind  to,  and 
why  wouldn't  I  try1?  Then  papa  turned  in,  who  very 
seldom  has  anything  to  say  to  us  girls,  or  about  any  family 
matters,  and  said  how  delighted  he  should  be  to  see  me 
married  to  a  man  so  capable  of  taking  care  of  me.  So, 
among  them  all,  I  agreed  that  I  would  receive  his  visits 
and  attentions  as  a  friend,  with  a  view  to  trying  to  love 
him;  and  ever  since  I  have  been  banked  up  in  flowers  and 
confectionery,  and  daily  drifting  into  relations  of  closer  and 
closer  intimacy. 

Do  I  find  myself  in  love  1  Not  a  bit.  Frankly,  dear 
friend,  to  tell  the  awful  truth,  the  thing  that  weighs  down 
my  heart  is,  that  if  this  man  were  not  so  rich  I  know  I 
should  n't  think  of  him.  If  he  were  a  poor  young  man, 
just  beginning  business,  I  know  I  should  not  give  him  a 
second  thought;  neither  would  mother,  nor  Aunt  Maria, 
nor  any  of  us.  Bat  here  are  all  these  worldly  advantages ! 
I  confess  I  am  dazzled  by  them.  I  am  silly,  I  am  weak, 
I  am  ambitious.  I  like  to  feel  that  I  may  have  the  prize 
of  the  season  —  the  greatest  offer  in  the  market.  I  know 
I  am  envied,  and  oh,  dear  me!  though  it's  naughty,  yet 
one  does  like  to  be  envied.  Besides,  to  tell  the  truth, 
though  I  am  not  in  love  with  him,  I  am  not  in  love  with 
anybody  else.  I  respect  him,  and  esteem  him,  and  all 
that,  in  a  quiet,  negative  sort  of  way,  and  mother  and 


THE   GIRL   OF   OUR   PERIOD  175 

Aunt  Maria  say  everything  else  will  come  —  after  mar 
riage.  Will  it?  Is  it  right?  Is  this  the  way  I  ought  to 
marry  ? 

But  then,  you  know,  I  must  marry  somebody  —  that, 
they  say,  is  a  fixed  fact.  It  seems  to  be  understood  that 
I  am  a  sort  of  helpless  affair,  to  be  taken  care  of,  and  that 
now  is  my  time  to  be  disposed  of;  and  they  tell  me  every 
day  that  if  I  let  this  chance  go,  I  shall  regret  it  all  my 
life. 

Do  you  know  I  wish  there  were  convents  that  one  could 
go  out  of  the  world  into?  Cousin  Sophia  Sewell  has  joined 
the  Sisters  of  St.  John,  and  says  she  never  was  so  happy. 
She  does  look  so  cheerful,  and  she  is  so  busy  from  morning 
till  night,  and  has  the  comfort  of  doing  so  much  good  to 
a  lot  of  those  poor  little  children,  that  I  envy  her. 

But  I  cannot  become  a  Sister.  What  would  mamma  say 
if  she  knew  I  even  thought  of  it  ?  Everybody  would  think 
me  crazy.  Nobody  would  believe  how  much  there  is  in 
me  that  never  comes  to  light,  nor  how  miserable  it  makes 
me  to  be  the  poor,  half-hearted  thing  that  I  am. 

You  know,  dear  friend,  about  sister  Ida's  peculiar 
course,  and  how  very  much  it  has  vexed  mamma.  Yet, 
really  and  truly,  I  can't  help  respecting  Ida.  It  seems  to 
me  she  shows  a  real  strength  of  principle  that  I  lack.  She 
went  into  gay  society  only  a  little  while  before  she  gave  it 
up,  and  her  reasons,  I  think,  were  good  ones.  She  said 
it  weakened  her  health,  weakened  her  mind;  that  there 
was  no  use  in  it,  and  that  it  was  just  making  her  physi 
cally  and  morally  helpless,  and  that  she  wanted  to  live  for 
a  purpose  of  her  own.  She  wanted  to  go  to  Paris,  and 
study  for  the  medical  profession;  but  neither  papa,  nor 
mamma,  nor  any  of  the  family  would  hear  of  it.  But  Ida 
persisted  that  she  would  do  something,  and  finally  papa 
took  her  into  his  business,  to  manage  the  foreign  correspon 
dence,  which  she  does  admirably,  putting  all  her  knowledge 


176  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

of  languages  to  account.  He  gives  her  the  salary  of  a  con 
fidential  clerk,  and  she  lays  it  up,  with  the  intention 
finally  of  carrying  her  purpose. 

Ida  is  a  good,  noble  woman,  of  a  strength  and  indepen 
dence  perfectly  incomprehensible  to  me.  I  can  desire,  but 
I  cannot  do;  I  am  weak  and  irresolute.  People  can  talk 
me  round,  and  do  anything  with  me,  and  I  cannot  help 
myself. 

Another  thing  makes  me  unhappy.  Ida  refused  to  be 
confirmed  when  I  was,  because,  she  said,  confirmation  was 
only  a  sham;  that  the  girls  were  just  as  wholly  worldly 
after  as  before,  and  that  it  did  no  earthly  good. 

Well,  you  see,  I  was  confirmed;  and,  oh,  dear  me!  I 
was  sincere,  God  knows.  I  wanted  to  be  good  —  to  live  a 
higher,  purer,  nobler  life  than  I  have  lived;  and  yet,  after 
all,  it  is  I,  the  child  of  the  Church,  that  am  living  a  life 
of  folly,  and  show,  and  self-indulgence ;  and  it  is  Ida,  who 
doubts  the  Church,  that  is  living  a  life  of  industry,  and 
energy,  and  self-denial. 

Why  is  it?  The  world  that  we  promise  to  renounce, 
that  our  sponsors  promised  that  we  should  renounce  —  what 
is  it,  and  where  is  it  1  Do  those  vows  mean  anything  ?  if 
so,  what  ?  I  mean  to  do  all  that  I  ought  to ;  but  how  to 
know  what?  There's  Aunt  Maria,  my  godmother,  she 
did  the  renouncing  for  me  at  my  baptism,  and  promised 
solemnly  that  I  should  abjure  "the  vain  pomp  and  glory 
of  the  world,  with  all  covetous  desires  of  the  same;  that  I 
should  not  follow,  or  be  led  by  them ; "  yet  she  has  never, 
that  I  see,  had  one  thought  of  anything  else  but  how  to 
secure  to  me  just  exactly  those  very  things.  That  I  should 
be  first  in  society,  be  admired,  followed,  flattered,  and 
make  a  rich,  splendid  marriage,  has  been  her  very  heart's 
desire  and  prayer;  and  if  I  should  renounce  the  vain  pomp 
and  glory  of  the  world,  really  and  truly,  she  would  be 
utterly  heartbroken.  So  would  mamma. 


THE   GIRL   OF   OUR   PERIOD  177 

I  don't  mean  to  lay  all  the  blame  on  them,  either.  / 
have  been  worldly,  too,  and  ambitious,  and  wanted  to 
shine,  and  been  only  too  willing  to  fall  in  with  all  their 
views.  But  it  really  is  hard  for  a  person  like  me  to  stand 
alone,  against  my  own  heart,  and  all  my  relatives,  particu 
larly  when  I  don't  know  exactly,  in  each  case,  what  to  do, 
and  what  not ;  where  to  begin  to  resist,  and  where  to  yield. 

Ida  says  that  it  is  a  sin  to  spend  nights  in  dancing,  so 
that  one  has  to  lie  in  bed  like  an  invalid  all  the  next  day. 
She  says  it  is  a  sin  to  run  down  one's  health  for  no  good 
purpose ;  and  yet  we  girls  all  do  it  —  everybody  does  it. 
We  all  go  from  party  to  party,  from  concert  to  ball,  and 
from  ball  to  something  else.  We  dance  the  german  three 
or  four  nights  a  week;  and  then,  when  Sunday  comes, 
sometimes  I  find  that  there  is  the  Holy  Communion  —  and 
then  I  am  afraid  to  go.  I  am  like  the  man  that  had  not 
on  the  wedding  garment. 

It  seems  to  me  that  our  Church  services  were  made  for 
real  Christians  —  people  like  the  primitive  Christians,  who 
made  a  real  thing  of  it;  they  gave  up  everything  and  went 
down  and  worshiped  in  the  catacombs,  for  instance.  I 
remember  seeing  those  catacombs  where  they  held  their 
church  far  down  under  ground,  when  I  was  in  Rome. 
There  would  be  some  meaning  in  such  people's  using  our 
service,  but  when  I  try  to  go  through  with  it  I  fear  to  take 
such  words  on  my  lips.  I  wonder  that  nobody  seems  to 
feel  how  awful  those  words  are,  and  how  much  they  must 
mean,  if  they  mean  anything.  It  seems  to  me  so  solemn 
to  say  to  God,  as  we  do  say  in  the  Communion  service, 
"  Here  we  offer  and  present  unto  Thee,  0  Lord,  ourselves, 
our  souls  and  bodies,  to  be  a  reasonable,  holy,  and  living 
sacrifice  unto  Thee  "  — 

I  see  so  many  saying  this  who  never  seem  to  think  of 
it  again;  and,  oh,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  said  it  myself 
and  been  no  better  afterward,  and  now,  alas!  I  too  often 


178  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

turn  away  from  the  holy  ordinance  because  I  feel  that  it 
is  only  a  mockery  to  utter  them,  living  as  I  do. 

About  this  marriage.  Mr.  Sydney  is  not  at  all  a  reli 
gious  man;  he  is  all  for  this  world,  and  I  don't  think  I 
shall  grow  much  better  by  it.  I  wish  there  were  somebody 
that  could  strengthen  me,  and  help  me  to  be  my  better  self. 
I  have  dreams  of  a  sort  of  man  like  King  Arthur,  and  the 
Knights  of  the  Holy  Grail  —  a  man,  noble,  holy,  and  reli 
gious.  Such  an  one  I  would  follow  if  I  broke  away  from 
every  one  else ;  but,  alas !  no  such  are  in  our  society,  at  least 
I  never  have  met  any.  Yet  I  have  it  in  me  to  love,  even  to 
death,  if  I  found  a  real  hero.  I  marked  a  place  in  a  book 
the  other  day,  which  said,  "  There  is  not  so  much  difficulty 
in  being  willing  to  die  for  one  as  finding  one  worth  dying 
for."  I  haven't,  and  they  laugh  at  me  as  a  romantic  girl 
when  I  tell  them  what  I  would  do  if  I  found  my  ideal. 

Well,  I  suppose  you  see  how  it 's  all  likely  to  end.  We 
drift,  and  drift,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  drifted  at  last 
into  this  marriage.  I  see  it  all  before  me,  just  what  it 
will  be,  —  a  wonderful  wedding,  that  turns  all  New  York 
topsy-turvy;  diamonds,  laces,  cashmeres,  infinite  flowers, 
and  tuberoses  of  course,  till  one's  head  aches;  clang  and 
ding,  and  bang  and  buzz;  triumphal  processions  to  all  the 
watering-places;  tour  in  Europe,  and  then  society  life  in 
New  York  ad  infinitum. 

Oh,  dear,  if  I  only  could  get  up  some  enthusiasm  for 
him!  He  likes  me,  but  he  don't  like  the  things  that  I 
like,  and  it  is  terribly  slow  work  entertaining  him  —  but 
when  we  are  married  we  sha'n't  see  so  much  of  each  other, 
I  suppose,  and  shall  get  on  as  other  folks  do.  Papa  and 
mamma  hardly  ever  see  much  of  each  other,  but  I  suppose 
they  are  all  right.  Aunt  Maria  says,  love  or  no  love  at 
the  beginning,  it  all  comes  to  this  sort  of  jog-trot  at  the 
end.  The  husband  is  the  man  that  settles  the  bills,  and 
takes  care  of  the  family,  that 's  all. 


THE    GIRL    OF   OUR   PERIOD  179 

Ida  says  —  but  I  won't  tell  you  what  Ida  says  —  she 
always  makes  me  feel  blue. 

Do  write  me  a  good  scolding  letter;  rouse  me  up;  shame 
me,  scold  me,  talk  hard  to  me,  and  see  if  you  can't  make 
something  of  me.  Perhaps  it  isn't  too  late. 

Your  affectionate  bad  girl,  EVA. 

[Letter  from  Mrs.  Courtney  to  Eva  Van  Arsdel.] 

MY  DEAR  CHILD,  —  You  place  me  in  an  embarrassing 
position  in  asking  me  to  speak  on  a  subject,  when  your 
parents  have  already  declared  their  wishes. 

Nevertheless,  my  dear,  I  can  but  remind  you  that  you 
are  the  child  of  a  higher  than  any  earthly  mother,  and  in 
an  affair  of  this  moment  you  should  take  counsel  of  our 
holy  Church.  Take  your  Prayer-Book  and  read  her  solemn 
service,  and  see  what  those  marriage  vows  are  that  you 
think  of  taking.  Are  these  to  be  taken  lightly  and  unad 
visedly  ? 

I  recollect,  when  I  was  a  young  girl,  we  used  to  read 
"Sir  Charles  Grandison,"  and  one  passage  in  the  model 
Harriet  Byron's  letters  I  copied  into  my  scrap-book.  Speak 
ing  of  one  who  had  proposed  to  her,  she  says:  "He  seems 
to  want  the  mind  that  I  would  have  the  man  blessed  with 
that  I  am  to  vow  to  love  and  honor.  I  purpose  whenever 
I  marry  to  make  a  very  good,  and  even  dutiful  wife ;  must 
I  not  vow  obedience,  and  shall  I  break  my  marriage  vow  ? 
I  would  not,  therefore,  on  any  consideration,  marry  a  man 
whose  want  of  knowledge  might  make  me  stagger  in  the 
performance  of  my  duty  to  him;  who  would,  perhaps, 
command  from  caprice  or  want  of  understanding  what  I 
think  unreasonable  to  be  complied  with." 

I  quote  this  because  I  think  it  is  old-fashioned  good 
sense,  in  a  respectable  old  English  novel,  worth  a  dozen  of 
the  modern  school.  To  me,  there  is  indicated  in  your 
description  of  Mr.  Sydney  just  that  lack  of  what  you 


180  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

would  need  in  a  husband,  which  would  make  difficult,  per 
haps  impossible,  the  performance  of  your  marriage  vows. 
It  is  evident  that  his  mind  does  not  impress  yours  or  con 
trol  yours,  and  that  there  are  no  mental  sympathies  between 
you. 

That  a  man  is  a  good  business  man,  that  he  is  fitted  to 
secure  the  rent  or  taxes  of  the  house  one  lives  in,  and  to 
pay  one's  bills,  is  not  all.  Think,  my  child,  that  this 
man,  for  whom  you  can  "get  up  no  enthusiasm,"  whose 
company  wearies  you,  is  the  one  whom  you  are  proposing 
to  take  by  the  hand  before  God's  altar,  and  solemnly  pro 
mise  that,  forsaking  all  others,  you  will  keep  only  unto 
him,  so  long  as  you  both  shall  live,  to  love,  to  honor,  and 
to  obey.  Can  you  do  it? 

You  say  you  can  get  up  no  enthusiasm  for  this  man,  yet 
you  have  a  conception  of  a  man  for  whom  you  could  leave 
all  things,  whom  you  could  love  unto  the  death. 

It  is  out  of  just  such  marriages,  made  by  girls  with  just 
such  hearts  as  yours,  that  come  all  these  troubles  that  are 
bringing  holy  marriage  into  disrepute  in  our  times.  A 
woman  marries,  thoughtlessly  and  unadvisedly,  a  man 
whom  she  consciously  does  not  love,  hoping  that  she  shall 
love  him,  or  that  she  shall  do  as  well  as  others  do;  then 
by  accident  or  chance  she  is  thrown  into  the  society  of  the 
very  one  whom  she  could  have  loved  with  enthusiasm,  and 
married  for  himself  alone.  The  modern  school  of  novels 
is  full  of  these  wretched  stories,  and  people  now  are  cla 
moring  for  free  divorce,  to  get  out  of  marriages  that  they 
never  ought  to  have  fallen  into. 

Amid  all  this  confusion  the  Church  stands  from  age  to 
age  and  teaches.  She  shows  you  exactly  what  you  are  to 
promise;  she  warns  you  against  promising  lightly,  or  un 
advisedly,  and  I  can  only  refer  my  dear  child  to  her  mo 
ther's  lessons.  Marriage  vows,  like  confirmation  vows, 
are  recorded  in  heaven,  and  must  not  be  broken. 


THE    GIRL    OF   OUR    PERIOD  181 

The  time  for  reflection  is  before  they  are  made.  Instead 
of  clamoring  for  free  divorce,  as  a  purifier  of  marriage,  all 
Christians  should  purify  it  as  the  Church  recommends,  by 
the  great  care  with  which  they  enter  into  it.  That  is  my 
doctrine,  my  love.  I  am  a  good  old  English  Church- 
woman,  and  don't  believe  in  any  modern  theories.  The 
teachings  of  the  Prayer-Book  are  enough  for  me.  I  know 
that,  in  spite  of  them  all,  there  are  thoughtless  confirma 
tion  vows  and  marriage  vows  daily  uttered  in  our  Church, 
but  it  is  not  for  want  of  clear  and  solemn  instruction.  But 
you,  my  love,  with  your  conscientiousness,  and  good  sense, 
and  really  noble  nature,  will  I  am  sure  act  worthily  of 
yourself  in  this  matter. 

Another  consideration  I  suggest  to  you.  This  man, 
whom  I  suppose  to  be  a  worthy  and  excellent  man,  has  his 
rights.  He  has  the  right  to  the  whole  heart  of  the  woman 
he  marries  —  to  whom  at  the  altar  he  gives  himself  and  all 
which  he  possesses.  A  woman  who  has  what  you  call  an 
enthusiasm  for  a  man  can  do  much  with  him.  She  can 
bear  with  his  faults;  she  can  inspire  and  lead  him;  she 
can  raise  him  in  the  scale  of  being.  But  without  this  en 
thusiasm,  this  real  love,  she  can  do  nothing  of  the  kind ; 
it  is  a  thing  that  cannot  be  dissembled  or  affected.  And 
after  marriage,  the  man  who  does  not  find  this  in  his  wife 
has  the  best  reason  to  think  himself  defrauded. 

Now,  if  for  the  sake  of  possessing  a  man's  worldly  goods, 
his  advantages  of  fortune  and  station,  you  take  that  rela 
tion  when  you  really  are  unable  to  give  him  your  heart, 
you  act  dishonestly.  You  take  and  enjoy  what  you  cannot 
pay  for.  Not  only  that,  but  you  deprive  him  through  all 
his  life  of  the  blessing  of  being  really  loved,  which  he 
might  obtain  with  some  other  woman. 

The  fact  is,  you  have  been  highly  cultivated  in  certain 
departments;  your  tastes  would  lead  you  into  the  world  of 
art  and  literature.  He  has  been  devoted  to  business,  and 


182  MY    WIFE   AND   I 

in  that  way  has  amassed  a  fortune,  but  he  has  no  know 
ledge  and  no  habits  that  would  prepare  him  to  sympathize 
with  you. 

I  am  not  here  undervaluing  the  worth  of  those  strong, 
sterling  qualities  which  belong  to  an  upright  and  vigorous 
man.  There  are  many  women  who  are  impressed  by  just 
that  sort  of  power,  and  admire  it  in  men,  as  they  do  phy 
sical  strength  and  courage;  it  dazzles  their  imagination, 
and  they  fall  in  love  accordingly.  You  happen  to  have 
another  kind  of  fancy  —  he  is  not  of  your  sort. 

But  there  are  doubtless  women  whom  he  would  fully 
satisfy;  who  would  find  him  a  delightful  companion;  who, 
in  short,  would  be  exactly  what  you  are  not,  in  love  with 
him.  My  dear,  men  need  wives  who  are  in  love  with 
them.  Simple  tolerance  is  not  enough  to  stand  the  strain 
of  married  life,  and  to  marry  when  you  cannot  truly  love 
is  to  commit  an  act  of  dishonesty  and  injustice.  Remem 
bering,  therefore,  that  you  are  about  to  do  what  never  can 
be  undone,  and  what  must  make  or  mar  your  whole  future, 
I  speak  this  in  all  sincere  plainness,  because  I  am,  and  ever 
must  be,  Your  affectionate  and  true  friend, 

M.  COURTNEY. 

[Ida  Van  Arsdel  to  Mrs.  Courtney.] 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  am  glad  you  have  written  as 
you  have  to  Eva.  It  is  perfectly  inexplicable  to  me  that 
a  girl  of  her  general  strength  of  character  can  be  so  unde 
cided.  Eva  has  been  deteriorating  ever  since  she  came 
from  Europe.  This  fashionable  life  is  to  mind  and  body 
just  like  a  hotbed  to  tender  plants  in  summer,  it  wilts 
everything  down.  Eva  was  a  good  scholar  and  I  had  great 
hopes  of  her.  She  had  a  warm  heart;  she  has  really  high 
and  noble  aspirations,  but  for  two  or  three  years  past  she 
has  done  nothing  but  run  down  her  health  and  fritter  away 
her  mind  on  trifles.  She  is  not  half  the  girl  she  was  at 


THE   GIRL   OF   OUR   PERIOD  183 

school,  either  mentally  or  physically,  and  I  am  grieved  and 
indignant  at  the  waste.  Her  only  chance  of  escape  and 
salvation  is  to  marry  a  true  man. 

But  when  people  set  out  as  a  first  requisite  that  the  man 
must  be  rich,  how  many  are  the  chances  of  finding  that? 
The  rich  men  of  America  are  either  rich  men's  sons  who, 
from  all  I  have  seen  of  them,  are  poor  trash  enough,  or 
business  men,  who  have  made  wealth  by  their  own  exer 
tions.  But  how  few  there  are  who  make  money  who  do 
not  sacrifice  their  spiritual  and  nobler  natures  to  do  it1? 
How  few  with  whom  the  making  of  money  is  not  the  be 
ginning,  middle,  and  end  of  life,  and  how  little  can  such 
men  do  to  uphold  and  elevate  the  moral  nature  of  a  wife ! 

Mr.  Sydney  is  a  man,  heart,  soul,  and  strength,  inter 
ested  in  that  mighty  game  of  chance  and  skill  by  which,  in 
America,  money  is  made.  He  is  a  railroad  king  —  a  prince 
of  stocks  —  a  man  going  with  a  forty-thousand  steam  power 
through  New  York  waters.  He  wants  a  wife  —  a  brilliant, 
attractive,  showy,  dressy  wife,  to  keep  his  house  and  orna 
ment  his  home;  and  he  is  at  Eva's  feet,  because  she  is,  on 
the  whole,  the  belle  of  his  circle.  He  chooses  en  Grand 
Seigneur,  and  undoubtedly  he  is  as  much  in  love  with  her 
as  such  a  kind  of  man  can  be.  But,  in  fact,  he  knows 
nothing  about  Eva ;  he  does  not  even  know  enough  to  know 
the  dangers  of  marrying  such  a  woman.  With  all  her  fire, 
and  all  her  softness,  all  her  restless  enthusiasms,  her  long 
ings  and  aspirations  and  inconsistencies,  what  could  he  do 
with  her?  The  man  who  marries  Eva  ought  to  know  her 
better  than  she  knows  herself,  but  this  man  never  would 
know  her  if  they  lived  together  an  age.  He  has  no  traits 
by  which  to  estimate  her,  and  the  very  best  result  of  the 
marriage  will  be  a  mutual  laisser  aller  of  two  people  who 
agree  not  to  quarrel,  and  to  go  their  own  separate  ways,  he 
to  his  world,  and  she  to  hers;  and  this  sort  of  thing  is 
what  is  called  in  our  times  a  good  marriage. 


184  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

I  am  out  of  patience  with  Eva  for  her  very  virtues.  It 
is  her  instinct  to  want  to  please  and  to  comply,  and  because 
mamma  and  Aunt  Maria  have  set  their  hearts  on  this 
match,  and  because  she  is  empty-hearted  and  tired,  and 
ennuyeuse,  she  has  no  strength  to  stand  up  for  herself. 
Her  very  conscientiousness  weakens  her;  she  doubts,  but 
does  not  decide.  She  has  just  enough  of  everything  in 
her  nature  to  get  her  into  trouble,  and  not  enough  to  get 
her  out.  A  phrenologist  told  her  she  needed  destructive- 
ness.  Well,  she  does.  The  pain-giving  power  is  a  most 
necessary  part  of  a  well-organized  human  being.  Nobody 
can  ever  do  anything  without  the  courage  to  be  disagreeable 
at  times,  which  I  have  plenty  of.  They  do  not  try  to 
control  me,  or  enslave  me.  Why  1  Because  I  made  my 
declaration  of  independence,  and  planted  my  guns,  and  got 
ready  for  war.  This  is  dreadfully  unamiable,  but  it  did 
the  thing ;  it  secured  peace ;  I  am  let  alone.  I  am  allowed 
my  freedom,  but  everybody  interferes  with  Eva.  She  is 
conquered  territory  —  has  no  rights  that  anybody  is  bound 
to  respect.  It  provokes  me. 

As  to  the  religious  part  of  your  letter,  dear  friend,  I 
thank  you  for  it.  I  cannot  see  things  as  you  do,  however. 
To  me  it  appears  that  in  our  day  everything  has  got  to  be 
brought  to  the  simple  test  of,  What  good  does  it  do  1  If 
baptism,  confirmation,  and  eucharist  make  unworldly,  self- 
denying,  self-sacrificing  people  just  as  certainly  as  petunia- 
seed  make  petunias,  why,  then,  nobody  will  have  any  doubt 
of  their  necessity,  and  the  Church  will  have  its  throngs. 
I  don't  see  now  that  they  do.  Go  into  a  fashionable  party 
I  have  been  in,  and  watch  the  girls,  and  see  if  you  can  tell 
who  have  been  baptized  and  confirmed,  and  who  have  not. 

The  first  Christians  carried  Christianity  over  all  the 
pomp  and  power  of  the  world  simply  by  the  unworldly  life 
they  lived.  Nobody  doubted  where  the  true  Church  was 
in  those  days.  Christians  were  a  set  of  people  like  nobody 


THE    GIRL   OF   OUR    PERIOD  185 

else  in  the  world,  and  whenever  and  wherever  and  by 
whatever  means  that  kind  of  character  that  they  had  is 
created,  it  will  have  power. 

I  like  the  Episcopal  Church,  but  I  cannot  call  it  the 
church  till  I  see  evidences  that  it  answers  practically  the 
purpose  of  a  church  better  than  any  other.  For  my  part 
I  go  to  hear  a  dreadfully  heretical  preacher  on  Sunday, 
who  lectures  in  a  black  coat  in  a  hall,  simply  because  he 
talks  to  me  on  points  of  duty  which  I  am  anxious  to  hear 
discussed.  Eva,  poor  child,  wears  down  her  health  and 
strength  with  night  after  night  in  society,  and  spends  all 
her  money  on  dress;  doing  no  earthly  thing  for  any  living 
creature,  except  in  the  pleasure-giving  way,  like  a  bird  or 
a  flower,  and  then  is  shocked  and  worried  about  me  because 
I  read  scientific  works  on  Sunday. 

I  make  conscience  of  good  health,  early  hours,  thick 
shoes,  and  mental  and  bodily  drill,  and  subjection.  Please 
God,  I  mean  to  do  something  worthy  a  Christian  woman 
before  I  die,  and  to  open  a  path  through  which  weaker 
women  shall  walk  out  of  this  morass  of  fashion-slavery  and 
subjection  where  they  flounder  now.  I  take  for  my  motto 
that  sentence  from  one  of  Dr.  Johnson's  allegories  you 
once  read  to  us:  "Xo  life  pleasing  to  God  that  is  not  use 
ful  to  man."  I  hope,  my  dear  friend,  I  shall  keep  the 
spirit  of  Christ,  though  I  wander  from  the  letter.  Such 
words  as  you  have  spoken  to  me,  however,  can  never  come 
amiss.  Perhaps  when  I  am  old  and  wiser,  like  many 
another  self-confident  wanderer,  I  may  be  glad  to  come  back 
to  my  mother's  house,  and  then,  perhaps,  I  shall  be  a  stiff 
little  Churchwoman.  At  all  events  I  shall  always  be  your 
loving  and  grateful  pupil.  IDA. 

[Eva  Van  Arsdel  to  Isabel  Convers.] 

MY  DEAR  BELLE,  —  Thanks  for  your  kind  letter  with 
all  its  congratulations  and  inquiries,  — for  though  as  yet 


186  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

I  have  no  occasion  for  congratulation,  and  nothing  to 
answer  to  inquiry,  I  appreciate  these  all  the  same. 

No,  Belle,  the  "  old  sixpence "  is  not  gone  yet,  —  you 
will  have  to  keep  to  your  friend  a  while  longer.  I  am 
not  engaged,  and  you  have  full  liberty  to  contradict  that 
report  everywhere  and  anywhere. 

Mr.  Sydney  is,  of  course,  very  polite,  and  very  devoted, 
very  much  a  friend  of  the  family  and  all  that,  but  I  am 
not  engaged  to  him,  and  you  need  never  believe  any  such 
thing  of  me  till  you  hear  it  directly,  under  my  own  hand 
and  seal. 

There  have  been  a  lot  of  engagements  in  our  set  lately. 
Lottie  Trevillian  is  going  to  marry  Sim  Carrington,  and 
Bessie  Somers  has  at  last  decided  to  take  old  Watkins  — 
though  he  is  twenty-five  years  older  than  she;  and  then 
there  's  Cousin  Maria  Elmore  has  just  turned  a  splendid 
affair  with  young  Livingstone,  really  the  most  brilliant 
match  of  the  winter.  I  am  positively  ashamed  of  myself, 
under  these  circumstances,  to  be  sitting  still,  and  unable 
to  report  progress.  My  old  infelicity  in  making  up  my 
mind  seems  to  haunt  me,  and  I  dare  say  I  shall  live  to  be 
a  dreadful  example. 

By  the  bye,  I  have  had  a  curious  sort  of  an  adventure 
lately.  You  know  when  I  was  up  at  Englewood  visiting 
you  last  summer,  I  was  just  raving  over  those  sonnets  on 
Italy,  which  appeared  in  the  "Milky  Way"  over  the  sig 
nature  of  "X."  You  remember  those  verses  on  "Fra 
Angelico  "  and  the  "Campanile,"  don't  you?  Well,  I 
have  found  out  who  this  "  X  "  is.  It 's  a  Mr.  Henderson  that 
is  now  in  New  York,  engaged  on  the  staff  of  the  "Great 
Democracy."  We  girls  have  noticed  him  once  or  twice 
walking  with  Jim  Fellows  —  (you  remember  Jim) ;  Jim 
says  he  is  a  perfect  hermit,  devoted  to  study  and  writing, 
and  never  goes  into  society.  Well,  was  n't  it  odd  that  the 
fates  should  have  thrown  this  hermit  just  in  my  way  ? 


THE   GIRL   OF   OUR   PERIOD  187 

The  other  morning  I  came  over  from  Brooklyn,  where  I 
had  been  spending  three  days  with  Sophia,  and  when  I  got 
into  the  car  whom  should  I  see  but  this  identical  Mr.  Hen 
derson  right  opposite  to  me.  I  took  a  quiet  note  of  him, 
between  whiles  thinking  of  one  or  two  lines  in  his  sonnet. 
He  is  nice-looking,  manly,  that  is,  and  has  fine  dark  eyes. 
Well,  do  you  know,  the  most  provoking  thing,  when  I 
came  to  pay  my  fare  I  found  that  I  had  no  tickets  nor 
small  change  —  what  could  have  possessed  me  to  come  so 
I  can't  imagine,  and  mamma  makes  it  all  the  worse  by  say 
ing  it 's  just  like  me.  However,  he  interposed  and  ar 
ranged  it  for  me  in  the  nicest  and  quietest  way  in  the 
world.  I  was  going  up  to  call  at  Jennings',  the  other  side 
of  the  Astor  House,  to  see  about  my  laces,  but  by  the  time 
we  got  there,  there  came  on  such  a  rain  as  was  perfectly 
dreadful.  My  dear,  it  was  one  of  those  shocking  affairs 
peculiar  to  New  York,  which  really  come  down  by  the 
bucketful,  and  I  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  cross  Broadway 
as  quick  as  I  could  to  catch  a  Fifth  Avenue  omnibus,  and 
let  my  lace  go  till  a  more  convenient  season. 

Well,  as  I  stepped  out  into  the  storm,  who  should  I  find 
quite  beside  me  but  this  gentleman,  with  his  umbrella  over 
my  head.  I  could  see  at  the  moment  that  it  had  one  of 
those  quaint  handles  that  they  carve  in  Dieppe.  We  were 
among  cars,  and  policemen,  and  trampling  horses,  and  so 
on,  but  he  got  me  safe  into  an  up-town  omnibus,  and  I  felt 
so  much  obliged  to  him. 

I  supposed,  of  course,  that  there  it  might  end,  but, 
wrould  you  believe  it,  quite  to  my  surprise,  he  got  into  the 
omnibus  too!  "After  all,"  I  said  to  myself,  "perhaps  his 
route  lies  up  town  like  mine."  He  was  n't  in  the  least 
presuming,  and  sat  there  very  quietly,  only  saying,  "Per 
mit  me, "  as  he  passed  up  a  ticket  for  me  when  the  fare  was 
to  be  paid,  so  saving  me  that  odious  necessity  of  making 
change  with  my  great  awkward  bill.  I  was  mortified 


188  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

enough  —  but  knowing  who  it  was,  had  a  sort  of  internal 
hope  that  one  day  I  could  apologize  and  make  it  all  right, 
for,  my  dear,  I  determined  on  the  spot  that  we  would  in 
vite  him  to  our  receptions,  and  get  Jim  Fellows  to  make 
him  come.  I  think  there  is  no  test  of  a  gentleman  like 
the  manner  in  which  he  does  a  favor  for  a  stranger  lady 
whom  the  fates  cast  upon  his  protection.  So  many  would 
be  insufferably  presuming  and  assuming  —  he  was  just 
right,  so  quiet,  so  simple,  so  unpretentious,  yet  so  consid 
erate. 

He  rode  on  very  quietly  till  we  were  opposite  our  house, 
and  then  was  on  duty  again  with  his  umbrella,  up  to  the 
very  door  of  the  house,  and  holding  it  over  me  while  we 
were  waiting.  I  could  n't  help  expressing  my  thanks,  and 
asking  him  to  walk  in;  but  he  excused  himself,  giving  his 
card,  and  saying  he  would  be  happy  to  call  and  inquire 
after  my  health,  etc. ;  and  I  gave  him  mine,  with  our 
Wednesday  receptions  on  it,  and  told  him  how  pleased 
mamma  would  be  to  have  him  call.  It  was  all  I  could  do 
to  avoid  calling  him  by  his  name,  and  letting  him  see  how 
much  I  knew  about  him;  but  I  didn't.  It  was  rather 
awkward,  wasn't  it? 

Now,  I  wonder  if  he  will  call  on  Wednesdays.  Jim 
Fellows  says  he  is  so  shy,  and  never  goes  out;  and  you 
know  if  there  is  anything  that  can't  be  had,  that  is  the 
thing  one  is  wild  to  get;  so  mamma  and  all  of  us  are  quite 
excited,  and  wondering  if  he  will  come.  Mamma  is  all 
anxiety  to  apologize,  and  all  that,  for  the  trouble  I  have 
given  him. 

It 's  rather  funny,  isn't  it  —  an  adventure  in  prosaic  old 
New  York?     I  dare  say,  now,  he  has  forgotten  all  about 
it,  and  never  will  think  of  coming  into  such  a  trifling  set 
as  we  girls  are.      Well,  I  will  let  you  know  if  he  comes. 
Ever  your  affectionate  EVA. 


CHAPTEE   XVI 

I    AM    INTRODUCED    INTO    SOCIETY 

BOLTON  and  I  were  sitting,  up  to  our  ears  in  new  books 
which  had  been  accumulating  for  notice  for  days  past,  and 
which  I  was  turning  over  and  dipping  into  here  and  there 
with  the  jaded,  half -disgusted  air  of  a  child  worn  out  by 
the  profusion  of  a  Thanksgiving  dinner. 

"I  feel  perfectly  savage,"  I  said.  "What  a  never-ending 
harvest  of  trash !  Two,  or  at  the  most  three,  tolerable  ideas, 
turned  and  twisted  in  some  novel  device,  got  up  in  large 
print,  with  wide  margins  —  and,  behold,  a  modern  book ! 
I  would  like  to  be  a  black  frost  and  nip  them  all  in  a  night !  " 

"Your  dinner  didn't  agree  with  you,  apparently,"  said 
Bolton,  as  he  looked  up  from  a  new  scientific  work  he  was 
patiently  analyzing,  making  careful  notes  along  the  margin; 
"however,  turn  those  books  over  to  Jim,  who  understands 
the  hop,  skip,  and  jump  style  of  criticism.  Jim  has  about 
a  dozen  or  two  of  blank  forms  that  only  need  the  name  of 
the  book  and  publisher  inserted,  and  the  work  is  done." 

"What  a  perfect  farce,"  said  I. 

"The  notices  are  as  good  as  the  books,"  said  Bolton. 
"  Something  has  to  be  said  to  satisfy  the  publishers  and  do 
the  handsome  thing  by  them;  and  the  usual  string  of  com 
mendatory  phrases  and  trite  criticism,  which  mean  nothing 
in  particular,  I  presume  imposes  upon  nobody.  It  is 
merely  a  form  of  announcing  that  such  and  such  wares  are 
in  the  market.  I  fancy  they  have  very  little  influence  on 
public  opinion." 

"But  do  you  think,"  said  I,  "that  there  is  any  hope  of 


190  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

a  just  school  of  book  criticism  —  something  that  should  be 
a  real  guide  to  buyers  and  readers,  and  a  real  instruction  to 
writers  ?  " 

"That  is  a  large  question,"  said  Bolton,  "and  a  matter 
beset  with  serious  difficulties.  While  books  are  a  matter 
of  commerce  and  trade;  while  magazines  which  criticise 
books  are  the  property  of  booksellers,  and  newspapers  de 
pend  on  them  for  advertising  patronage,  it  is  too  much  to 
expect  of  human  nature  that  we  should  always  get  wholly 
honest,  unbiased  opinions.  Then,  again,  there  is  the 
haste,  and  rush,  and  hurry  of  our  times,  the  amount  of 
literary  driftwood  that  is  all  the  while  accumulating! 
Editors  and  critics  are  but  mortal  men,  and  men  kept,  as 
a  general  thing,  in  the  last  agonies  of  weariness  and  bore 
dom.  There  is  not,  for  the  most  part,  sensibility  enough 
left  to  enable  them  to  read  through  or  enter  into  the  pur 
port  of  one  book  in  a  hundred;  yet,  for  all  this,  you  do 
observe  here  and  there  in  the  columns  of  our  best  papers 
carefully  studied  and  seriously  written  critiques  on  books; 
these  are  hopeful  signs.  They  show  a  conscientious  effort 
on  the  part  of  the  writers  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the 
work,  and  to  give  their  readers  a  fair  account  of  it;  and, 
if  I  mistake  not,  the  number  of  such  is  on  the  increase." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "do  you  suppose  there  is  any  prospect 
or  possibility  of  a  constructive  school  of  criticism  —  honest, 
yet  kindly  and  sympathetic,  that  shall  lead  young  authors 
into  right  methods  of  perfecting  themselves  1 " 

"We  have  a  long  while  to  wait  before  that  comes,"  said 
Bolton.  "Who  is  appreciative  and  many-sided  enough  to 
guide  the  first  efforts  of  genius  just  coming  to  conscious 
ness?  How  many  could  profitably  have  advised  Haw 
thorne  when  his  peculiar  Rembrandt  style  was  just  form 
ing?  As  a  race,  we  Anglo-Saxons  are  so  self-sphered  that 
we  lack  the  power  to  enter  into  the  individuality  of  another 
mind,  and  give  profitable  advice  for  its  direction. 


I  AM  INTRODUCED   INTO   SOCIETY  191 

"English  criticism  has  generally  been  unappreciative  and 
brutal;  it  has  dissected  butterflies  and  humming-birds  with 
mallet  and  cleaver  —  witness  the  review  that  murdered 
Keats,  and  witness  in  the  letters  of  Charlotte  Bronte  the 
perplexity  into  which  sensitive,  conscientious  genius  was 
thrown  by  obstreperous,  conflicting  criticism.  The  most 
helpful,  because  most  appreciative  reviews,  she  says,  came 
to  her  from  France." 

"I  suppose,"  said  I,  "that  it  is  the  dramatic  element  in 
the  French  character  that  fits  them  to  be  good  literary  crit 
ics.  They  can  enter  into  another  individuality.  One 
would  think  it  a  matter  of  mere  common  sense,  that  in 
order  to  criticise  justly  you  must  put  yourself  for  the  time 
being  as  nearly  as  possible  at  the  author's  point  of  sight; 
form  a  sympathetic  estimate  of  what  he  is  striving  to  do, 
and  then  you  can  tell  how  nearly  he  attains  his  purpose. 
Of  this  delicate  constructive  criticism,  we  have  as  yet,  it 
seems  to  me,  almost  no  specimens  in  the  English  language. 
Sainte-Beuve  has  left  models  in  French,  in  this  respect, 
which  we  should  do  well  to  imitate.  We  Americans  are 
a  good-natured  set,  and  our  criticism  inclines  to  comity  and 
good-fellowship  far  more  than  to  the  rude  bluntness  of  our 
English  neighbors;  and  if  we  could  make  this  discrimi 
nating  as  well  as  urbane,  we  should  get  about  the  right 
thing." 

Our  conversation  was  interrupted  here  by  Jim  Fellows, 
who  came  thundering  upstairs,  singing  at  the  top  of  his 
lungs :  — 

"  If  an  engine  meet  an  engine 
Coming  round  a  curve,  — 
If  it  smash  both  train  and  tender, 

What  does  it  deserve  ? 

Not  a  penny  —  paid  to  any, 

So  far  as  I  observe  "  — 

"  Gracious,  Jim !  what  a  noise ! "  said  I,  as  he  entered 
the  room  with  a  perfect  war-whoop  on  the  chorus. 


192  MY    WIFE   AND    I 

"Bless  my  soul,  man,  why  are  n't  you  dressing?  Aren't 
you  going  up  to  the  garden  of  Eden  with  me  to-night,  to 
see  the  woman,  and  the  serpent,  and  all  that  ?  "  he  said, 
collaring  me  without  ceremony.  "Come  away  to  your 
bower,  and  curl  your  nut-brown  hair;  for 

'  Time  rolls  along, 
Nor  waits  for  mortal  care  or  bliss, 
We  '11  take  our  staff  and  travel  on, 
Till  we  arrive  where  the  pretty  gals  is.'  " 

And  thus  singing,  Jim  whirled  me  down  the  stairs,  and 
tumbled  me  into  my  room,  and  went  into  his,  where  I 
heard  him  accompanying  his  toilet  operations  with  very 
loud  selections  from  the  last  comic  opera,  beating  time  with 
his  hair-brush  in  a  bewildering  manner. 

Jim  was  certainly  a  natural  curiosity  in  respect  to  the 
eternal,  unceasing  vivacity  of  his  animal  spirits,  which 
were  in  a  state  of  effervescence  from  morning  to  night, 
frothing  out  in  some  odd  freak  of  drollery  or  buffoonery. 
There  was  not  the  smallest  use  in  trying  remonstrance  or 
putting  on  a  sober  face:  his  persistence,  and  the  endless 
variety  of  his  queer  conceits,  would  have  overcome  the 
gravity  of  the  saddest  hermit  that  ever  wore  sackcloth  and 
ashes. 

Bolton  had  become  accustomed  to  see  him  bursting  into 
his  room  at  all  hours,  with  a  breeze  which  fluttered  all  his 
papers,  and  generally  sat  back  resignedly  in  his  chair,  and 
laughed  in  helpless  good-nature,  no  matter  how  untimely 
the  interruption.  "Oh,  it's  Jim!"  he  would  say,  in 
tones  of  comic  resignation.  "It's  no  use;  he  must  have 
his  fling!" 

"Time  's  up,"  said  Jim,  drumming  on  my  door  with  his 
hair- brush  when  his  toilet  was  completed.  "Come  on,  my 
boy,  '  Let  us  haste  to  Kelvyn  Grove. ' ' 

I  opened  my  door,  and  Jim  took  a  paternal  survey  of 
me  from  neck-cloth  to  boot-toe,  turning  me  round  and  in- 


I   AM   INTRODUCED   INTO   SOCIETY  193 

specting  me  on  all  sides,  as  if  I  had  been  a  Sunday-school 
boy,  dressed  for  an  exhibition. 

"Those  girls  have  such  confounded  sharp  eyes,"  he  re 
marked,  "a  fellow  needs  to  be  well  got  up.  Yes,  you'll 
do;  and  you're  not  bad  looking,  Hal,  either,  all  things 
considered, "  he  added  encouragingly.  "Come  along.  I've 
got  lots  of  things  to  make  a  sensation  with  among  the  girls 
to-night. " 

"What,  for  example?" 

"Oh,  I've  been  investigating  round,  and  know  sundry 
little  interesting  particulars  as  to  the  new  engagement  just 
declared.  I  know  when  the  engagement  ring  was  got,  and 
what  it  cost,  and  where  the  bride's  jewels  are  making  up, 
and  what  they  are  to  be  —  all  secrets,  you  understand,  of 
the  very  deadest  door-nail  kind.  But  Jim  knows  them! 
Oh  yes! — you'll  see  the  nutter  I'll  make  in  the  roost 
to-night!  I  say,  if  you  want  to  cultivate  your  acquain 
tance  with  Miss  Eva  there,  I  '11  draw  all  the  rest  off,  and 
keep  'em  so  wide  awake  round  me  that  they  '11  never  think 
what  becomes  of  you." 

I  must  confess  to  feeling  not  a  little  nervous  in  the 
prospect  of  my  initiation  into  society,  and  regarding  with 
a  secret  envy  the  dashing,  easy  assurance  of  Jim.  I  called 
him  in  my  heart  something  of  a  coxcomb,  but  it  was  with 
a  half-amused  tolerance  that  I  allowed  him  to  patronize 
me. 

The  experience  of  a  young  man  who  feels  that  he  has 
his  own  way  in  life  to  make,  and  all  wThose  surroundings 
must  necessarily  be  of  the  most  rigid  economy,  when  he 
enters  the  modern  sphere  of  young  ladyhood,  is  like  a 
sudden  change  from  Nova  Zembla  to  the  tropics.  His  is 
a  world  of  patient  toil,  of  hard  effort,  of  dry  drudgery,  of 
severe  economies;  while  our  young  American  princesses, 
his  social  equals,  whose  society  fascinates  him,  to  whose 
acquaintance  he  aspires,  live  like  the  fowls  of  the  air  or  the 


194  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

lilies  of  the  field,  without  a  thought  of  labor,  or  a  care,  or 
serious  responsibility  of  any  kind.  They  are  "gay  crea 
tures  of  the  element,"  living  to  enjoy  and  to  amuse  them 
selves,  to  be  fostered,  sheltered,  dressed,  petted,  and  made 
to  have  "good  times"  generally.  In  England,  there  are 
men  born  to  just  this  life  and  position,  — hereditary  pos 
sessors  of  wealth,  ease,  and  leisure,  and  therefore  able  to 
be  hereditary  idlers  and  triflers  —  to  live  simply  to  spend 
and  to  enjoy.  But  in  America,  where  there  are  no  laws 
to  keep  fortunes  in  certain  families,  fortunes,  as  a  general 
rule,  must  be  made  by  their  possessors,  and  young  men 
must  make  them.  The  young,  unmarried  women,  there 
fore,  remain  the  only  aristocracy  privileged  to  live  in  idle 
ness,  and  wait  for  their  duties  to  come  t'o  them. 

The  house  to  which  I  was  introduced  that  night  was  one 
of  those  New  York  palaces  that  are  furnished  with  eclectic 
taste,  after  a  survey  of  all  that  Europe  has  to  give.  The 
suites  of  rooms  opened  into  each  other  in  charming  vista, 
and  the  walls  were  hung  with  the  choicest  paintings.  It 
was  evident  that  cultured  skill  and  appreciation  had  pre 
sided  over  the  collection  of  the  endless  objects  of  artistic 
elegance  and  vertu  wrhich  adorned  every  apartment;  it  was 
no  vulgar  display  of  wealth,  but  a  selection  which  must 
have  been  the  result  of  study  and  care. 

Jim,  acting  the  part  of  master  of  ceremonies,  duly  pre 
sented  me  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  and  the  bevy  of 
young  ladies,  whose  eyes  twinkled  with  dangerous  merri 
ment  as  I  made  my  bow  to  them. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel  was  what  one  so  often  sees  in  these  pal 
aces,  a  simple,  quiet,  silent  man,  not  knowing  or  caring  a 
bodle  about  any  of  the  wonders  of  art  and  luxury  with 
which  his  womankind  have  surrounded  him,  and  not  pre 
tending  in  the  least  to  comprehend  them;  but  quietly  in 
dulgent  to  the  tastes  and  whims  of  wife  and  daughters,  of 
whose  superior  culture  he  is  secretly  not  a  little  proud. 


I   AM   INTRODUCED   INTO   SOCIETY  195 

In  Wall  Street  Mr.  Van  Arsdel  held  up  his  head,  and 
found  much  to  say;  his  air  was  Napoleonic;  in  short,  there 
his  foot  was  on  his  native  heath.  But  in  his  own  house, 
among  Cuyps,  and  Freres,  and  Rembrandts,  and  Fra  An- 
gelicos,  with  a  set  of  polyglot  daughters  who  spake  with 
tongues,  he  walked  softly,  and  expressed  himself  with 
humility,  like  a  sensible  man. 

Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  had  been  a  beauty  from  her  youth, 
had  come  of  a  family  renowned  for  belles,  and  was  still  a 
very  handsome  woman,  and,  of  course,  versed  in  all  those 
gentle  diplomacies  and  ineffable  arts  and  crafts  by  which 
the  sons  of  Adam  are  immediately  swayed  and  governed. 
Never  was  stately  swan  sailing  at  the  head  of  a  brood  of 
fair  young  cygnets  more  competent  to  leadership  than  she 
to  marshal  her  troop  of  bright,  handsome  daughters  through 
the  straits  of  girlhood  to  the  high  places  of  matrimony. 
She  read,  and  classified,  and  ticketed,  at  a  glance,  every 
young  man  presented  to  her,  yet  there  was  not  a  shade  of 
the  scrutiny  dimming  the  bland  cordiality  of  her  reception. 
She  was  winning,  warming,  and  charming;  fully  alive  to 
the  eclat  of  a  train  of  admirers,  and  to  the  desirableness  of 
keeping  up  a  brilliant  court. 

"Mr.  Henderson,"  she  said,  with  a  rich,  mellow  laugh, 
"  I  tell  Eva  there  is  some  advantage,  first  or  last,  in  almost 
everything.  One  of  her  scatter-brained  tricks  has  brought 
us  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance." 

"  Mamma  has  such  a  shocking  way  of  generalizing  about 
us  girls,"  said  Eva;  "if  we  once  are  caught  doing  a  thing 
she  talks  as  if  we  made  a  regular  habit  of  it.  Now,  I  have 
come  over  from  Brooklyn  hundreds  of  times,  and  never  failed 
to  have  the  proper  change  in  my  purse  till  this  once." 

"I  am  to  regard  it,  then,  as  a  special  piece  of  good  for 
tune,  sent  to  me  ?  "  said  I,  drawing  somewhat  nearer,  as 
Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  turned  to  receive  some  new  arrivals. 

I  had  occasion  this  evening  to  admire  the  facility  with 


196  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

which  Jim  fulfilled  his  promise  of  absorbing  to  himself  the 
attention  of  the  young  hostesses,  and  leaving  me  the  advan 
tage  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  my  new  acquaintance.  I  could 
see  him  at  this  moment,  seated  by  Miss  Alice,  a  splendid, 
brilliant  brunette,  while  the  two  pretty  younger  sisters,  not 
yet  supposed  to  be  out,  were  seated  on  ottomans,  and  all 
in  various  stages  of  intense  excitement.  I  could  hear :  — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Fellows,  now,  you  must  tell  us !  indeed,  I  am 
quite  wild  to  know !  how  could  you  find  it  out  ?  "  in  vari 
ous,  eager  tones.  Jim,  of  course,  was  as  fully  aware  of 
the  importance  of  a  dramatic  mystery  as  a  modern  novel- 
writer,  and  pursued  a  course  of  most  obdurate  provocation, 
letting  out  only  such  glimpses  and  sparkles  of  the  desired 
intelligence  as  served  to  inflame  curiosity,  and  hold  the 
attention  of  the  circle  concentrated  upon  himself. 

"I  think  you  are  perfectly  dreadful!  Oh,  Mr.  Fellows, 
it  really  is  a  shame  that  you  don't  tell  us;  really  now  I 
shall  break  friendship  with  you,"  —  the  tones  here  became 
threatening.  Then  Jim  struck  a  tragic  attitude,  and  laid 
his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  declared  that  he  was  a  martyr, 
and  there  was  more  laughing,  and  such  a  chatter  and  con 
fusion  of  tongues  that  nothing  definite  could  be  made  out. 

The  length  of  time  that  young  people,  from  eighteen  to 
twenty,  and  even  upward,  can  keep  themselves  in  ecstasies 
of  excitement,  with  such  small  stock  of  real  things  of  any 
sort  to  say,  is  something  that  invariably  astonishes  old  and 
sober  people,  who  have  forgotten  that  they  once  were  in 
this  happy  age,  when  everything  made  them  laugh.  There 
was  soon  noise  enough,  and  absorption  enough,  in  the  little 
circle  —  widened  by  the  coming  in  of  one  or  two  other 
young  men  —  to  leave  me  quite  unnoticed,  and  in  the  back 
ground.  This  was  not  to  be  regretted,  as  Miss  Eva  as 
sumed  with  a  charming  ease  and  self-possession  that  role  of 
hospitality  and  entertainment  for  which  I  fancy  our  young 
American  princess  has  an  especial  talent. 


I  AM  INTRODUCED   INTO   SOCIETY  197 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Henderson,"  she  said,  "we  scarcely 
expected  you,  as  we  hear  you  never  go  out." 

"Indeed!"  said  I. 

"Oh  yes!  your  friend,  Mr.  Fellows  there,  has  presented 
you  to  us  in  most  formidable  aspects  —  such  a  Diogenes ! 
so  devoted  to  your  tub !  no  getting  you  out  on  any  terms !  " 

"I'm  sure,"  I  answered,  laughing,  "I  wasn't  aware 
that  I  had  ever  had  the  honor  of  being  discussed  in  your 
circle  at  all." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  Mr.  Henderson,  you  gentlemen  who  make 
confidants  of  the  public  are  often  known  much  better  than 
you  know.  I  have  felt  acquainted  with  many  of  your 
thoughts  for  a  long  while." 

What  writer  is  insensible  to  such  flattery  as  this  ?  espe 
cially  from  the  prettiest  of  lips.  I  confess  I  took  to  this 
sort  of  thing  kindly,  and  was  ready  if  possible  for  a  little 
more  of  it.  I  began  to  say  to  myself  how  charming  it  was 
to  find  beauty  and  fashion  united  with  correct  literary 
taste. 

"Now,"  she  said,  as  the  rooms  were  rapidly  filling,  "let 
me  show  you  if  I  have  not  been  able  to  read  aright  some 
of  your  tastes.  Come  into  what  I  call  my  '  Italy. ' '  She 
lifted  ajwrtiere,  and  we  stepped  into  a  charming  little  bou 
doir,  furnished  in  blue  satin,  whose  walls  were  finished  in 
compartments,  in  each  of  which  hung  a  copy  of  one  of  Fra 
Angelico's  angels.  Over  the  white  marble  mantel  was  a 
superb  copy  of  "The  Paradise."  "There,"  she  said,  turn 
ing  to  me,  with  a  frank  smile,  "  am  I  not  right  ? " 

"You  are,  indeed,  Miss  Van  Arsdel.  What  beautiful 
copies!  They  take  me  back  to  Florence." 

"See  here,"  she  added,  opening  a  velvet  case,  "here  is 
something  that  I  know  you  noticed,  for  I  read  what  you 
thought  of  it." 

It  was  an  exquisite  copy  of  that  rarest  little  gem  of  Fra 
Angelico's  painting,  "The  Death-Bed  of  the  Virgin  Mary," 


198  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

—  in  time  past  the  theme  of  some  of  my  verses,  which 
Miss  Van  Arsdel  thus  graciously  recalled. 

" Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "the  only  drawback,  when 
one  reads  poems  that  exactly  express  what  one  would  like 
to  say,  is  that  it  makes  us  envious;  one  thinks,  why 
could  n't  I  have  said  it  thus?  " 

"Miss  Van  Arsdel,"  said  I,  "do  you  remember  the  lines 
of  Longfellow,  '  I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air  '  ?  " 

"What  are  they  1  "  she  said. 

I  repeated :  — 

"  '  I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air, 

It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where; 
For,  so  swiftly  it  flew,  the  sight 
Could  not  follow  it  in  its  flight. 

'  I  breathed  a  song  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where ; 
For  who  has  sight  so  keen  and  strong, 
That  it  can  follow  the  flight  of  song  ? 

'Long,  long  afterward,  in  an  oak 
I  found  the  arrow,  still  unbroke ; 
And  the  song,  from  beginning  to  end, 
I  found  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend.' 

"Do  you  know,"  I  said,  "that  this  expresses  exactly 
what  a  poet  wants  1  It  is  not  admiration,  it  is  sympathy. 
Poems  are  test  papers,  put  in  the  atmosphere  of  life  to 
detect  this  property;  we  can  find  by  them  who  really  feel 
with  us;  and  those  who  do,  whether  near  or  far,  are 
friends.  The  making  of  friends  is  the  most  precious  gift 
for  which  poetic  utterance  is  given." 

"I  don't  think,"  said  she,  "you  should  say  'make 
friends  '  —  friends  are  discovered,  rather  than  made.  There 
are  people  who  are  in  their  own  nature  friends,  only  they 
don't  know  each  other;  but  certain  things  like  poetry, 
music,  and  painting,  are  like  the  Freemasons'  signs  —  they 
reveal  the  initiated  to  each  other." 

And   so   on   we   went,    deliciously  talking   and   ranging 


I  AM  INTRODUCED   INTO   SOCIETY  199 

through  portfolios  of  engravings  that  took  us  through  past 
days;  rambling  through  all  our  sunny  Italian  life,  up  the 
Campanile,  through  the  old  Duomo;  sauntering  through 
the  ilexes  of  the  Boboli  Garden;  comparing  notes  on  the 
pictures  in  the  Pitti  and  the  Belle  Arti  —  in  short,  we  had 
one  of  that  blessed  kind  of  times  which  comes  when  two 
enthusiasts  go  back  together  over  the  brightest  and  sun 
niest  passages  of  their  experience.  My  head  swam;  a 
golden  haze  was  around  me,  and  I  was  not  quite  certain 
whether  I  was  in  the  body  or  not.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
we  two  must  always  have  known  each  other,  so  very  simple 
and  natural  did  it  seem  for  us  to  talk  together,  and  to  un 
derstand  one  another.  "But,"  she  said,  suddenly  checking 
herself,  "if  we  get  to  going  on  all  these  things  there  is  no 
end  to  it,  and  I  promised  sister  Ida  that  I  would  present 
you  in  her  study  to-night." 

"  Seems  to  me  it  is  so  very  delightful  here ! "  said  I 
deprecatingly,  not  well  pleased  to  come  out  of  my  dream. 

"Ah,  but  you  don't  know,  Mr.  Henderson,  this  pro 
posed  presentation  is  a  special  honor.  I  assure  you  that 
this  is  a  distinction  that  is  almost  never  accorded  to  any  of 
our  callers;  you  must  know  sister  Ida  has  retired  from  the 
world,  and  given  herself  up  to  the  pursuit  of  wisdom,  and 
it  is  the  rarest  thing  on  earth  that  she  vouchsafes  to  care 
for  seeing  any  one." 

"I  should  be  only  too  much  flattered,"  said  I,  as  I 
followed  my  guide  across  a  hall,  and  into  a  little  plainly 
furnished  study,  whose  air  of  rigid  simplicity  contrasted 
with  the  luxury  of  all  the  other  parts  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE    YOUNG    LADY    PHILOSOPHER 

SEATED,  reading  by  a  shaded  study-lamp,  was  a  young 
woman  of  what  I  should  call  the  Jeanie  Deans  order  — 
one  whose  whole  personal  appearance  indicated  that  sort  of 
compact,  efficient  union  of  energy  and  simplicity  character 
istic  of  the  Scottish  heroine.  Her  hair,  of  a  pretty  curly 
brown,  was  cut  short,  k  la  Rosa  Bonheur;  her  complexion 
glowed  with  a  sort  of  a  wholesome  firmness,  indicative  of 
high  health;  her  large,  serious  gray  eyes  had  an  expression 
of  quiet  resolution,  united  with  careful  observation.  Her 
figure  inclined  to  the  short,  stout,  and  well-compacted  order, 
which  gave  promise  of  vitality  and  power  of  endurance  — 
without  pretensions  to  beauty.  There  was  a  wholesome, 
thoughtful  cheerfulness  and  good-humor  in  the  expression  of 
the  face  that  made  it  decidedly  prepossessing  and  attractive. 

The  furniture  of  the  room,  too,  was  in  contrast  with  all 
the  other  appointments  of  the  house.  It  was  old  and 
worn,  and  of  that  primitive  kind  that  betokened  honest 
and  respectable  mediocrity.  There  was  a  quaint,  old-fash 
ioned  writing-desk,  with  its  array  of  drawers  and  pigeon 
holes;  there  were  old  slippery  wooden  armchairs,  unre 
lieved  by  cushions;  while  the  floor  was  bare,  excepting  in 
front  of  the  fire,  where  it  was  covered  by  a  large  square  of 
what  New  England  housekeepers  call  rag- carpet.  The 
room,  in  fact,  was  furnished  like  the  sitting-room  of  an 
old  New  England  farmhouse.  A  cheerful,  bountiful  wood 
fire,  burning  on  a  pair  of  old-fashioned  brass  andirons, 
added  to  the  resemblance. 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  PHILOSOPHER        201 

"You  see,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said  Miss  Eva,  when  I  had 
been  introduced  and  seated,  "you  are  now  in  the  presence 
of  Miss  Van  Arsdel  proper.  This  room  is  papa's  and  Ida's 
joint  territory,  where  their  own  tastes  and  notions  have 
supreme  sway ;  and  so,  you  see,  it  is  sacred  to  the  memories 
of  the  past.  There  is  all  the  old  furniture  that  belonged 
to  papa  when  he  was  married.  Poor  man !  he  has  been 
pushed  out  into  grandeur,  step  by  step,  till  this  was  all 
that  remained,  and  Ida  opened  an  asylum  for  it.  Do  you 
know,  this  is  the  only  room  in  the  house  papa  cares  much 
for.  You  see,  he  was  born  on  a  farm,  dear  gentleman, 
and  he  has  an  inveterate  yearning  after  primitive  simplicity 
—  huckleberries  and  milk,  you  know,  and  all  that.  Don't 
this  look  like  the  old  '  keeping-room  '  style  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "it  looks  like  home.  I  know  rooms  just 
like  it." 

"But  I  like  these  old  primitive  things,"  said  Ida.  "I 
like  hardness  and  simplicity.  I  am  sick  to  death  of  soft 
ness  and  perfumed  cushions  and  ease.  We  women  are 
sweltered  under  down  beds,  and  smothered  with  luxuries, 
in  our  modern  day,  till  all  the  life  dies  out  of  us.  /  want 
to  live  while  I  live,  and  to  keep  myself  in  such  trim  that 
I  can  do  something  —  and  I  won't  pet  myself  nor  be 
petted." 

"There,"  said  Eva,  laughing,  "blood  will  tell;  there's 
the  old  Puritan  broken  loose  in  Ida.  She  don't  believe 
any  of  their  doctrines,  but  she  goes  on  their  track.  She  's 
just  like  a  St.  Bernard  dog  that  she  brought  home  once. 
As  soon  as  snow  carne,  he  was  wild  to  run  out  and  search 
in  it,  and  used  to  run  off  whole  days  in  the  woods,  just 
because  his  ancestors  were  trained  to  hunt  travelers.  Ida 
is  as  bent  on  testifying  and  going  against  the  world  as  any 
old  Covenanter." 

"The  world  needs  going  against,"  said  Ida.  "By  the 
bye,  Mr.  Henderson,  you  must  allow  me  to  thank  you  for 


202  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

your  article  on  the  Woman  of  our  Times,  in  the  '  Milky 
Way.'  It  is  bracing,  and  will  do  good." 

"And  I,"  said  Eva,  kindling  with  a  sort  of  flame-like 
vivacity,  "have  been  perfectly  dying  to  tell  you  that  you 
don't  know  us  fashionable  girls,  and  that  we  are  not,  after 
all,  such  poor  trash  as  you  seem  to  think.  All  the  out-of- 
jointness  of  society  is  not  our  fault." 

"I  protest,  Miss  Eva,"  said  I,  astonished  at  the  eager 
ness  of  her  manner.  "I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I 
have  said  to  give  that  impression." 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  not.  You  have  only  used  the  good 
stock  phrases  and  said  the  usual  things.  You  reformers 
and  moralists,  and  all  that,  have  got  a  way  of  setting  us 
girls  down  as  sinners  as  a  matter  of  course,  so  that  you 
never  think  when  you  do  it.  The  '  dolls  of  fashion, '  the 
'butterflies,'  etc.,  etc.,  are  used  to  point  the  moral  and 
adorn  the  tale.  The  girl  of  the  period  is  the  scapegoat  for 
all  the  naughty  things  going.  Now,  I  say  the  girl  of  the 
period  isn't  a  particle  worse  than  the  boy  of  the  period; 
and  I  think  reformers  had  better  turn  their  attention  to 
him." 

"But  I  don't  remember,"  said  I,  astonished  and  con 
fused  at  the  sudden  vivacity  of  this  attack,  "that  I  said 
anything. " 

"  Oh  yes,  but  I  do.  You  see,  it 's  the  party  that 's  hit 
that  knows  when  a  blow  is  struck.  You  see,  Mr.  Hender 
son,  it  isn't  merely  you,  but  everybody,  from  the  London 
'  Spectator  '  down,  when  they  get  on  their  preaching-caps, 
and  come  forth  to  right  the  wrongs  of  society,  begin  about 
us  —  our  dressiness,  our  expensiveness,  our  idleness,  our 
extravagance,  our  heartlessness.  The  men,  poor,  dear 
creatures,  are  led  astray  and  ruined  by  us.  It 's  the  old 
story  of  Adam,  '  The  woman  beguiled  me. '  ' 

"You  see,"  said  Ida,  laughing,  "Eva's  conscience  trou 
bles  her;  that 's  why  she  's  so  sensitive." 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  PHILOSOPHER        203 

"Well,  that's  the  truth,"  said  Eva.  "I'm  in  the 
world,  and  Ida  has  gone  out  of  it;  and  so  she  can  sit  by, 
all  serene,  when  hits  are  made  at  us,  and  say,  '  I  told  you 
so.'  But,  you  see,  /  am  int  and  am  all  the  while  sure 
that  about  half  what  they  say  of  us  is  true,  and  that  makes 
me  sensitive  when  they  say  too  much.  But,  I  insist  upon 
it,  it  isn't  all  true;  and  if  it  is,  it  isn't  our  fault.  We 
are  in  the  world  just  as  we  are  in  a  railroad  car,  and  we 
can't  help  its  carrying  us  on,  even  if  we  don't  like  the 
places  it  takes  us  through." 

"Unless  you  get  out  of  it,"  said  Ida. 

"Yes;  but  it  takes  courage  to  get  out  alone,  at  some 
desolate  way  station,  and  set  up  your  tent,  and  make  your 
way,  and  have  everybody  in  the  cars  screaming  remon 
strances  or  laughing  at  you.  Ida  has  the  courage  to  do  it, 
but  I  have  n't.  I  don't  believe  in  myself  enough  to  do  it, 
so  I  stay  in  the  car,  and  wish  I  didn't,  and  wish  we  were 
all  going  a  better  way  than  we  do." 

"No,"  said  Ida;  "women  are  brought  up  in  a  way  to 
smother  all  the  life  out  of  them  All  literature  from  the 
earliest  ages  teaches  them  that  it  is  graceful  to  be  pretty 
and  helpless;  they  aspire  to  be  superficial  and  showy. 
They  are  directed  to  look  on  themselves  as  flowers :  — 

'  Gay  without  toil,  and  lovely  without  art, 
They  spring  to  cheer  the  sense,  and  warm  the  heart ; 
Nor  blush,  my  fair,  to  be  compared  to  these  — 
Your  best,  your  noblest  mission,  is  to  please.'  " 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  flushing,  "was  n't  it  a  man  that  wrote 
that1?  and  don't  they  always  misunderstand  us?  We  are 
soft  —  we  are  weak  —  we  do  love  beauty,  and  ease,  and 
comfort ;  but  there  is  a  something  in  us  more  than  they  give 
us  credit  for.  Where  is  that  place  in  Carlyle  1 "  she  said, 
rising  with  a  hasty  impulse,  and  taking  down  a  volume,  and 
running  rapidly  over  the  leaves.  "  Oh,  here  it  is !  "  and 
she  read  with  energy  from  Carlyle's  "Hero  Worship:  "  — 


204  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

"  'It  is  a  calumny  to  say  that  men  are  nerved  to  heroic 
action  by  ease,  hope  of  pleasure,  recompense  —  sugar-plums 
of  any  kind  —  in  this  world  or  the  next.  In  the  meanest 
mortal  there  is  something  nobler.  The  poor,  swearing 
soldier,  hired  to  be  shot,  has  his  honor  of  a  soldier  differ 
ent  from  drill,  regulations,  and  the  shilling  a  day.  It  is 
not  to  taste  sweet  things,  but  to  do  noble  and  true  things, 
and  vindicate  himself  under  God's  heaven  as  a  God- made 
man,  that  the  poorest  son  of  Adam  dimly  longs.  Show 
him  the  way  of  doing  that,  and  the  dullest  drudge  kindles 
into  a  hero. 

" '  They  wrong  man  greatly  who  say  he  is  to  be  seduced 
by  ease.  Difficulty,  abnegation,  martyrdom,  death,  are 
allurements  that  act  on  the  heart  of  man.  Kindle  the 
inner  genial  life  of  him,  and  you  have  a  flame  that  burns 
up  all  lower  considerations. ' 

"Now,"  she  said,  her  face  glowing,  and  bringing  down 
her  little  fist  with  emphasis,  "that  is  true  of  women  as 
well  as  men.  They  wrong  woman  greatly  who  say  she  is 
to  be  seduced  by  ease.  Difficulty,  abnegation,  martyrdom, 
death,  are  allurements  that  act  on  the  heart  of  woman. 
Now,  Mr.  Henderson,  every  woman  that  is  a  woman  feels 
this  in  the  depths  of  her  heart,  and  it  is  this  feeling  sup 
pressed  that  is  at  the  bottom  of  a  great  deal  of  unhappiness 
in  woman's  life.  You  men  have  your  chance  to  express  it 
—  that  is  your  great  good  fortune.  You  are  called  to  be 
heroes  —  your  hour  comes  —  but  we  are  buried  under  eter 
nal  commonplaces  and  trifles." 

"Yet,  Miss  Eva,"  said  I,  "I  don't  think  we  are  so  very 
much  better  off  than  you.  The  life  of  the  great  body  of 
men  is  a  succession  of  mere  ignoble  drudgeries,  with  no 
thing  great  or  inspiring.  Unless  we  learn  to  ennoble  the 
commonplace  by  a  heroic  spirit,  most  of  us  must  pass 
through  life  with  no  expression  of  this  aspiration;  and  I 
think  that  more  women  succeed  in  doing  this  than  men  — 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  PHILOSOPHER        205 

in  fact,  I  think  it  is  the  distinctive  prerogative  of  woman 
to  idealize  life,  by  shedding  an  ennobling  spirit  upon  its 
very  trifles.'7 

"That  is  true,"  she  said  frankly;  "but  I  confess  it 
never  occurred  to  me;  yet  don't  you  think  it  harder  to  be 
heroic  in  every-day  affairs  ?  " 

"Certainly;  but  those  that  can  inspire  commonplace 
drudgery  with  noble  and  heroic  meanings  are  the  true 
heroes.  There  was  a  carpenter  once  in  Nazareth  who 
worked  thirty  years  quietly  at  his  bench;  but  who  doubts 
that  every  stroke  of  that  work  was  inspired  and  heroic,  as 
much  as  the  three  public  years  that  followed  1  And  there 
are  women,  like  him,  toiling  in  poverty  —  hard-working 
wives,  long-suffering  mothers,  whose  every  breath  is  heroic. 
There  can  be  no  commonplace  where  such  noble  creatures 
live  and  suffer." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said  Ida,  "heroism  can  be  in 
any  life  that  is  a  work-life  —  and  life  which  includes  en 
ergy  and  self-denial.  But  fashionable  life  is  based  on  mere 
love  of  ease.  All  it  seeks  is  pleasurable  sensation  and 
absence  of  care  and  trouble,  and  it  starves  this  heroic  capa 
bility;  and  that  is  the  reason,  as  Eva  says,  why  there  is  so 
much  repressed  unhappiness  in  women.  It  is  the  hunger 
of  starving  faculties.  What  are  all  these  girls  and  women 
looking  for?  Amusement,  excitement.  What  do  they 
dread  more  than  anything?  Effort,  industry,  self-denial. 
Not  one  of  them  can  read  a  serious  book  through  —  not 
because  they  are  not  able,  but  because  it  takes  an  effort. 
They  read  nothing  but  serial  stories,  and  if  there  is  much 
thought  in  them,  they  skip  it,  to  get  at  the  story.  All 
the  education  they  get  in  schools  lies  idle ;  they  do  nothing 
with  it,  as  a  general  thing.  They  neither  read,  write,  nor 
speak  their  French,  Italian,  or  German  —  and  what  is  the 
use  of  having  got  them  ?  Men  study  languages  as  a  key 
to  literature,  and  use  literature  for  some  purpose;  women 


206  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

study  only  to  forget.  It  does  not  take  four  languages  and 
all  the  ologies  to  enable  them  to  dance  the  ge/man  and  com 
pose  new  styles  of  trimming.  They  might  do  all  they  do 
equally  as  well  without  these  expensive  educations  as  with  " — 

"There  now,  you  have  got  sister  Ida  on  her  pet  topic," 
said  Eva,  with  heightened  color;  "she  will  take  up  her 
prophecy  now,  and  give  it  to  us  wicked  daughters  of  Zion; 
but,  after  all,  it  only  makes  one  feel  worried  and  bad,  and 
one  doesn't  know  what  to  do.  We  don't  make  the  world; 
we  are  born  into  and  find  it  ready  made.  We  find  certain 
things  are  customs  —  certain  things  are  expected  of  us  — 
and  we  begin  to  say  A,  and  then  \ve  must  say  B,  and  so 
on  through  the  whole  alphabet.  We  don't  want  to  say  B, 
but  we  must  because  we  have  said  A.  It  isn't  every  one 
that  is  brave  and  strong  enough  to  know  where  to  stop, 
and  face  the  world,  and  say,  '  No,  I  will  not  do  it. '  We 
must  keep  step  with  our  neighbors.'7 

"Well,"  said  Ida,  "who  is  it  that  says,  'Be  not  con 
formed  to  the  world  '  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Eva;  "there's  the  Bible  —  there 
are  all  the  lessons  and  prayers  and  hymns  of  the  Church 
all  going  one  way,  and  our  lives  all  going  the  other  —  all 
our  lives  —  everybody's  life  —  even  nice  people's  lives  — 
all  go  the  other  way;  except  now  and  then  one.  There  's 
our  new  rector,  now,  he  is  beginning  to  try  to  bring  us  up 
to  live  as  the  Church  directs ;  but  mamma  and  Aunt  Maria, 
and  all  of  them,  cry  out  that  he  is  High  Church,  and  going 
to  Popery,  and  all  that;  they  say  that  if  one  is  to  live  as 
he  says,  and  go  out  to  prayers  morning  and  evening,  and 
to  Holy  Communion  every  Sunday,  it  will  just  upset  our 
whole  plan  of  life,  that  one  might  as  well  go  into  a  convent 
—  and  so  it  will.  One  can't  be  in  parties  all  night,  and 
go  to  prayers  every  morning;  one  can't  go  through  that 
awful  Holy  Communion  every  Sunday,  and  live  as  we  gen 
erally  do  through  the  week.  All  our  rector  is  trying  to 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  PHILOSOPHER        207 

do  is  simply  to  make  a  reality  of  oar  profession;  he  wants 
us  to  carry  out  in  good  faith  what  is  laid  down  in  the 
Prayer-Book;  but  you  see  we  can't  do  it  without  giving  up 
the  world  as  we  have  it  arranged  now.  For  my  part,  I  'm 
going  to  the  daily  services  in  Lent,  if  I  don't  any  other 
time,  and  though  it  does  make  me  feel  dreadfully  wicked 
and  uncomfortable. " 

"Oh,  you  poor  child!"  said  Ida;  "why  haven't  you 
strength  to  do  as  you  please  1 " 

"Why  haven't  I  the  arm  of  a  blacksmith?  why  can't 
I  walk  ten  miles?  There  are  differences  of  power  in  mind 
as  well  as  body,"  said  Eva. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  at  this  moment  by 
Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  who  entered  quietly,  with  his  spectacles 
and  newspapers. 

"The  children  are  having  lively  times  in  there,"  he 
said,  "and  I  thought  I'd  just  come  here  and  sit  where 
it 's  quiet,  and  read  my  papers." 

"Papa  says  that  every  evening,"  said  Eva. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said  he,  with  a 
confiding  sort  of  simplicity,  "Ida  and  I  feel  at  home  in 
here,  because  it 's  just  the  little  old  place  wife  and  I  had 
when  we  began.  You  see,  these  are  all  my  old  things  that 
we  first  went  to  housekeeping  with,  and  I  like  them.  I 
did  n't  want  to  have  them  sent  off  to  auction,  if  they  are 
old  and  clumsy." 

"And  he  should  have  them,  so  he  should,  pa-sey  dear," 
said  Eva  caressingly,  putting  her  arm  round  his  neck. 
"But  come,  Mr.  Henderson,  I  suppose  the  gay  world  out 
side  will  expect  us." 

I  had  risen  and  was  looking  over  the  library.  It  was 
largely  composed  of  modern  scientific  and  physiological 
works. 

"You  see  my  light  reading,"  said  Ida,  with  a  smile. 

"Ida's  books  are  a  constant  reproach  to  me,"  said  Eva; 


208  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

"  but  I  dip  in  now  and  then,  and  fish  up  some  wonderful 
pearl  out  of  them;  however,  I  confess  to  just  the  fatal 
laziness  she  reprobates  —  I  don't  go  through  anything." 

"Well,  Mr.  Henderson,  we  won't  keep  you  from  the 
world  of  the  parlors,"  said  Ida;  "but  consider  you  have 
the  entree  here  whenever  you  want  a  quiet  talk;  and  we 
will  be  friends,"  she  said,  stretching  out  her  hand  with  the 
air  of  a  queen. 

"You  honor  me  too  much,  Miss  Van  Arsdel,"  said  I. 

"Come  now,  Mr.  Henderson,  we  can't  allow  our  princi 
pal  literary  lion  to  be  kept  in  secret  places,"  said  Miss 
Eva.  "You  are  expected  to  walk  up  and  down  and  show 
yourself;  there  are  half  a  dozen  girls  to  whom  I  have 
promised  to  present  you." 

And  in  a  moment  I  found  myself  standing  in  a  brilliant 
circle  of  gay  tropical  birds  of  fashion,  where  beauty,  or  the 
equivalent  of  beauty,  charmingness,  was  the  rule,  and  not 
the  exception.  In  foreign  lands,  my  patriotic  pride  had 
often  been  fed  by  the  enthusiasm  excited  by  my  country 
women.  The  beauty  and  grace  of  American  women,  their 
success  in  foreign  circles,  has  passed  into  a  proverb;  and 
in  a  New  York  company  of  young  girls  one  is  really  dazzled 
by  prettiness.  It  is  not  the  grave,  grand,  noble  type  of 
the  Madonna  and  the  Venus  di  Milo,  but  the  delicate,  bril 
liant,  distracting  prettiness  of  young  birds,  kittens,  lambs, 
and  flowers  —  something  airy  and  fairy  —  belonging  to 
youth  and  youthful  feeling.  You  see  few  that  promise  to 
ripen  and  wax  fairer  in  middle  life;  but  almost  all  are  like 
delicate,  perfectly  blossomed  flowers  —  fair,  brilliant,  and 
graceful,  with  a  fragile  and  evanescent  beauty. 

The  manners  of  our  girls  have  been  criticised,  from  the 
foreign  standpoint,  somewhat  severely.  It  is  the  very 
nature  of  republican  institutions  to  give  a  sort  of  uncon 
ventional  freedom  to  its  women.  There  is  no  upper  world 
of  court  and  aristocracy  to  make  laws  for  them,  or  press 


THE   YOUNG   LADY   PHILOSOPHER  209 

down  a  framework  of  etiquette  upon  them.  Individual 
freedom  of  opinion  and  action  pervades  every  school;  it  is 
breathed  in  the  very  air,  and  each  one  is,  in  a  great  degree, 
a  law  unto  herself.  Every  American  girl  feels  herself  in 
the  nobility;  she  feels  adequate  to  the  situation,  and  per 
fectly  poised  in  it.  She  dares  do  many  things  not  per 
mitted  in  foreign  lands,  because  she  feels  strong  in  herself, 
and  perfectly  sure  of  her  power.  Yet  he  who  should  pre 
sume  on  this  frank  generosity  of  manner  will  find  that 
Diana  has  her  arrows,  and  that  her  step  is  free  only  be 
cause  she  knows  her  strength,  and  understands  herself  per 
fectly,  and  is  competent  to  any  situation. 

At  present,  the  room  was  full  of  that  battledore-and- 
shuttlecock  conversation,  in  which  everything  in  heaven 
above  or  earth  beneath  is  bantered  to  and  fro,  flitting  and 
flying  here  and  there  from  one  bright  lip  to  another. 

"Now,  really  and  truly,  girls,  are  you  going  to  the  early 
services  this  Lent?  Oh,  Mr.  Selwyn  is  such  a  good  man! 
and  wasn't  his  pastoral  letter  beautiful?  We  really  ought 
to  go.  But,  girls,  I  can't  get  up  —  indeed  I  can't;  do 
you  know,  it's  dreadful  —  seven  o'clock  —  only  think  of 
it.  You  won't  go,  Eva?  " 

"Yes,  I  shall." 

"I  lay  you  a  pair  of  gloves  you  won't,  now,"  quoth  a 
mouth  adorned  with  long  waxed  mustaches  of  a  true  Im 
perial  type. 

"See  if  I  don't." 

"Oh,  mamma  says  I  mustn't  try,"  said  another;  "I 
have  not  the  strength." 

"And  I  tell  Eva  she  can't  do  it,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel. 
"Eva  is  always  overdoing;  she  worked  herself  to  death  in 
a  mission  class  last  year.  The  fact  is,  one  can't  do  these 
things  and  go  into  society." 

"But  what 's  the  use  of  society,  mamma?  "  said  Eva. 

"Oh,  well;  we  can't  all  turn  into  monks  and  nuns,  you 


210  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

know;  and  that's  what  these  modern  High  Church  doings 
would  bring  us  to.  I  'm  a  good,  old-fashioned  Episcopa 
lian;  I  believe  in  going  to  church  on  Sundays  —  and  that 's 
all  we  used  to  hear  about." 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Fellows,  I  saw  you  at  St.  Al- 
ban's?"  said  Miss  Alice. 

"On  your  knees,  too,"  said  Miss  Eva. 

"Do  you  believe  in  bowing  to  the  altar?"  said  a  third; 
"I  think  it 's  quite  Popish." 

"  Girls,  what  are  going  to  be  worn  for  hats  this  spring  1 
have  you  been  to  Madame  De  Tullegig's?  I  declare  it 's  a 
shame!  but  Lent  is  just  the  busiest  time  about  one's 
clothes;  one  must  have  everything  ready  for  Easter,  you 
know.  How  do  you  like  the  new  colors,  Mr.  Fellows  ?  " 

"  What !  the  hell-fire  colors  1 "  said  Jim. 

"Oh,  horrors!  You  dreadful  creature,  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself ! "  screamed  in  four  or  five  voices. 

"Am  ashamed  —  sackcloth  and  ashes,  and  all  that;  eat 
nothing  but  codfish,"  said  Jim.  "But  that 's  what  they 
call  'em,  anyway  —  hell-fire  colors." 

"I  never  did  hear  such  a  profane  creature.  Girls,  isn't 
he  dreadful  1  " 

"I  say,  Miss  Alice,"  said  Jim,  "do  you  go  to  confession 
up  there?  'Cause,  you  see,  if  that  thing  is  getting  about, 
I  think  I'll  turn  priest." 

"I  think  you  ought  to  go  to  confession,"  said  she. 

"I  shall  in  the  good  times  coming,  when  we  have  lady 
priests. " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Henderson,  do  you  believe  in  women's 
rights  1 " 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  for  my  part,  I  have  all  the  rights  I  want,"  said 
Miss  Alice. 

"I  should  think  you  did,"  said  Jim  Fellows;  "but  it 's 
hard  on  us." 


THE   YOUNG  LADY   PHILOSOPHER  211 

"Well,  I  think  that  is  all  infidelity,"  said  another; 
"goes  against  the  Bible.  Do  you  think  women  ought  to 
speak  in  public  ?  " 

"Ristori  and  Fanny  Kemble,  for  instance,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  well,  they  are  speaking  other  people's  words; 
but  their  own  1 " 

"  Why  not  as  well  as  in  private  ?  " 

"Oh,  because  —  why,  I  think  it's  dreadful;  don't 
you?" 

"  I  can't  perceive  why.  I  am  perfectly  charmed  to  hear 
women  speak,  in  public  or  private,  who  have  anything 
good  or  agreeable  to  say." 

"But  the  publicity  is  so  shocking! " 

"Is  it  any  more  public  than  waltzing  at  the  great  public 
balls?" 

"Oh,  well,  I  think  lecturing  is  dreadful;  you'll  never 
convince  me.  I  hate  all  those  dreadful,  raving,  tearing, 
stramming  women. " 

In  which  very  logical  and  consecutive  way  the  leading 
topics  of  the  age  were  elegantly  disposed  of;  and  at  eleven 
o'clock  I  found  myself  out  on  the  pavement  with  the  in 
exhaustible  Jim,  who  went  singing  and  whistling  by  niy 
side  as  fresh  as  a  morning  blackbird.  My  head  was  in  a 
pretty  thorough  whirl;  but  I  was  initiated  into  society,  — 
to  what  purpose  shall  hereafter  appear. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

FLIRTATION 

"LOOK  there,"  said  Jim  Fellows,  throwing  down  a  pair 
of  Jouvin's  gloves.  "That  's  from  the  divine  Alice." 

"A  present?" 

"Aphilopena." 

"  Seems  to  me,  Jim,  you  are  pushing  your  fortunes  in 
that  quarter." 

"Yes;  having  a  gay  time!  Adoring  at  the  shrine  and 
all  that,"  said  Jim.  "The  lovely  Alice  is  like  one  of  the 
Madonna  pictures  —  to  be  knelt  to,  sworn  to,  vowed  to  — 
but  I  can't  be  the  possessor.  In  the  mean  while,  let 's 
have  as  good  a  time  as  possible.  We  have  the  very  best 
mutual  understanding.  I  am  her  sworn  knight,  and  wear 
her  colors  —  behold !  " 

And  Jim  opened  his  coat,  and  showed  a  pretty  knot  of 
carnation-colored  ribbon. 

"But,  I  thought,  Jim,  you  talked  the  other  night  as  if 
you  could  get  any  of  them  you  wanted. " 

"Who  says  I  couldn't,  man?  Does  not  the  immortal 
Shakespeare  say,  '  She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won  '  ? 
You  don't  go  to  doubting  Shakespeare  at  this  time  of  day, 
I  hope  1 " 

"Well,  then"  — 

"Well,  then;  you  see,  Hal,  we  get  wiser  every  day  — 
that  is,  I  do  —  and  it  begins  to  be  borne  in  on  my  mind 
that  these  rich  girls  won't  pay,  if  you  could  get  them. 
The  game  isn't  worth  the  candle." 

"But    there    is    real   thought  and  feeling    and    cultiva- 


FLIRTATION  213 

tion  among    them,"  said    I,    taking  up   the  gauntlet  with 
energy. 

"So  there  is  real  juice  in  hothouse  grapes;  but  if  I 
should  have  a  present  of  a  hothouse  to-morrow,  what 
should  I  have  to  run  it  with  ?  These  girls  have  the  educa 
tion  of  royal  princesses,  and  all  the  habits  and  wants  of 
them;  and  what  could  a  fellow  do  with  them  if  he  got 
them?  We  haven't  any  Parliament  to  vote  dowries  to 
keep  them  up  on.  I  declare,  I  wish  you  had  heard  those 
girls  the  other  night  go  on  about  that  engagement,  and 
what  they  expected  when  their  time  comes.  Do  you  know 
the  steps  of  getting  engaged  1  " 

"I  cannot  say  I  have  that  happiness,"  said  I. 

"Well,  first,  there's  the  engagement  ring,  not  a  sign  of 
love,  you  understand,  but  a  thing  to  be  discussed  and  com 
pared  with  all  the  engagement  rings,  past,  present,  and  to 
come,  with  Tom's  ring,  and  Dick's  ring,  and  Harry's  ring. 
If  you  could  have  heard  the  girls  tell  over  the  prices  of  the 
different  engagement  rings  for  the  last  six  months,  and 
bring  up  with  Rivington's,  which,  it  seems,  is  a  solitaire 
worth  a  thousand !  Henceforth  nothing  less  is  to  be  thought 
of.  Then  the  wedding  present  to  your  wife.  Kivington 
gives  $30,000  worth  of  diamonds.  Wedding  fees,  wedding 
journey  to  every  expensive  place  that  can  be  thought  of, 
you  ought  to  have  a  little  fortune  to  begin  writh.  The 
lovely  creatures  are  perfectly  rapacious  in  their  demands 
under  these  heads.  I  heard  full  lists  of  where  they  were 
going  and  what  they  wanted  to  have.  Then  comes  a 
house,  in  a  fashionable  quarter,  to  the  tune  of  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars;  then  furniture,  carriages,  horses,  opera- boxes. 
The  short  of  the  matter  is,  old  Van  Arsdel's  family  are 
having  a  jolly  time  on  the  income  of  a  million.  There  are 
six  of  them,  and  every  one  wants  to  set  up  in  life  on  the 
same  income.  So,  you  see,  the  sum  is  how  to  divide  a 
million  so  as  to  make  six  millions  out  of  it.  The  way  to 


214  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

do  it  is  plain.  Each  son  and  daughter  must  marry  a  mil 
lion,  and  get  as  much  of  a  man  or  woman  with  it  as  pleases 
Heaven." 

"And  suppose  some  of  them  should  love  some  man,  or 
woman,  more  than  gold  or  silver,  and  choose  love  in  place 
of  money  1  "  said  I. 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "that's  quite  supposable;  any  of 
these  girls  is  capable  of  it.  But,  after  all,  it  would  be 
rough  on  a  poor  girl  to  take  her  at  her  word.  What  do 
they  know  about  it?  The  only  domestic  qualification  the 
most  practical  of  them  ever  think  of  attaining  is  how  to 
make  sponge-cake.  I  believe,  when  they  are  thinking  of 
getting  married,  they  generally  make  a  little  sponge-cake 
and  mix  a  salad  dressing,  that  fits  them  for  the  solemn  and 
awful  position  of  wife  and  mother,  which  you  hear  so  much 
about.  Now,  the  queenly  Alice  is  a  splendid  girl,  and 
can  talk  French  and  German  and  Italian;  but  her  know 
ledge  of  natural  history  is  limited.  I  imagine  she  thinks 
gloves  grow  in  packs  on  the  trees,  and  artificial  flowers  are 
raised  from  seed,  and  dresses  develop  by  uniform  laws  of 
nature  at  the  rate  of  three  or  four  a  month.  If  you  could 
get  the  darling  to  fly  to  your  arms,  and  the  old  gentleman 
shouldn't  come  round  and  give  her  what  he  could  afford, 
how  could  you  console  her  when  she  finds  out  the  price  of 
gloves  and  gaiter  boots  and  all  the  ordinary  comforts  1  I'm 
afraid  the  dear  child  will  be  ready  to  murder  you  for  help 
ing  her  to  her  own  way.  So  you  see,  Jim  doesn't  invest 
in  engagement  rings  this  year." 

Thereupon  I  sung :  — 

"  A  sly  old  fox  one  day  did  spy 
A  bunch  of  grapes  that  hung  so  high,"  etc. 

"Sing  away,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Jim.  "Maybe  I 
am  the  fox;  but  I'm  a  fox  that  has  cut  his  eye-teeth. 
I  'm  too  cute  to  put  my  neck  in  that  noose,  you  see.  No, 
sir;  you  can  mention  to  Queen  Victoria  that  if  she  wants 


FLIRTATION  215 

Jim  Fellows  to  marry  one  of  her  daughters,  why  Parlia 
ment  has  got  to  come  down  handsomely  with  dowry  to 
keep  her  on.  They  are  worth  keeping,  these  splendid 
creations  of  nature  and  art;  but  it  takes  as  much  as  to  run 
a  first-class  steamer.  They  go  exactly  in  the  line  of  fine 
pictures  and  statuary,  and  all  that.  They  may  be  adorable 
and  inspiring,  and  exalting  and  refining  and  purifying,  the 
very  poetry  of  existence,  the  altogether  lovely;  but,  after 
all,  it  is  only  the  rich  that  can  afford  to  keep  them.  A 
wife  costs  more  in  our  day  than  a  carriage  or  a  conscience, 
and  both  those  are  luxuries  too  expensive  for  Jim." 

"Jim!  Jim!!  Jim!!!"  I  exclaimed,  intones  of  expos 
tulation  ;  but  the  impracticable  Jim  cut  a  tall  pirouette,  and 
sung : — 

"  My  old  massa  told  me  so, 
Best  looking  nigger  in  the  country,  0  ! 
I  looked  in  the  glass  and  I  found  it  so— o — o — 0 — 0." 

The  crescendo  here  made  the  papers  flutter,  and  created 
a  lively  breeze  in  the  apartment. 

"And  now,  farewell,  divinest  Alice,  Jim  must  go  to 
work.  Let 's  see.  Oh!  I  've  promised  a  rip-staving  skin 
ner  on  Tom  Brown  in  that  Custom  House  affair." 

"What  is  that  business?  What  has  Brown  done?  If 
all  is  true  that  is  alleged  he  ought  to  be  turned  out  of  de 
cent  society." 

"Oh,  pshaw!  you  don't  understand;  it's  nothing  but  a 
dust  we  're  kicking  up  because  it 's  a  dry  time.  Brown  Js 
a  good  fellow  enough,  I  dare  say,  but  you  know  we  want 
to  sell  our  papers,  and  these  folks  want  hot  hash  with  their 
breakfast  every  morning,  and  somebody  has  got  to  be 
served  up.  You  see  the  '  Seven  Stars  '  started  this  story, 
and  sold  immensely,  and  we  come  in  on  the  wave;  the 
word  to  our  paper  is  '  pitch  in,'  and  so  I  'm  pitching  in." 

"But,  Jim,  is  it  the  fair  thing  to  do  when  you  don't 
know  the  truth  of  the  story  ?  " 


216  MY    WIFE   AND   I 

"The  truth!  well,  my  dear  fellow,  who  knows  or  cares 
anything  about  truth  in  our  days  ?  We  want  to  sell  our 
papers. " 

"And  to  sell  your  papers  you  will  sell  your  honor  as  a 
man  and  a  gentleman.'7 

"  Oh,  bother,  Hal,  with  your  preaching ! " 

"  But,  Jim,  you  ought  to  examine  both  sides  and  know 
the  truth." 

"I  do  examine;  generally  write  on  both  sides  when 
these  rows  come  on.  I  'm  going  to  defend  Brown  in  the 
'  Forum ; '  you  see,  they  sent  round  yesterday  for  an  article  ; 
so  you  see,  Jim  makes  his  little  peculium  both  ways." 

"Jim,  is  that  the  square  thing? " 

"Why  not?  It  would  puzzle  the  Devil  himself  to  make 
out  what  the  truth  is  in  one  of  our  real  double  and  twisted 
New  York  newspaper  rows.  I  don't  pretend  to  do  it,  but 
I  '11  show  up  either  side  or  both  sides  if  I  'm  paid  for  it. 
We  young  men  must  live !  If  the  public  must  have  spicery 
we  must  get  it  up  for  them.  We  only  serve  out  what  they 
order.  I  tell  you,  now,  what  this  great  American  people 
wants  is  a  semi-occasional  row  about  something,  no  matter 
what;  a  murder,  or  a  revival,  or  a  great  preacher,  or  the 
'  Black  Crook ; '  the  Lord  or  the  Devil,  anything  to  make 
matters  lively,  and  break  up  the  confounded  dull  times 
round  in  the  country." 

"And  so  you  get  up  little  personal  legends,  myths,  about 
this  or  that  man  ?  " 

"Exactly;  that's  what  public  men  are  good  for.  They 
are  our  drums  and  tamborines;  we  beat  on  'em  to  amuse 
the  people  and  make  a  variety ;  nobody  cares  for  anything 
more  than  a  day;  they  forget  it  to-morrow,  and  something 
else  turns  up." 

"And  you  think  it  right,"  said  I,  "to  use  up  character 
just  as  you  do  bootblacking  to  make  your  boots  shine? 
How  would  you  like  to  be  treated  so  yourself? " 


FLIRTATION  217 

"Shouldn't  mind  it  a  bit  —  bless  your  buttons  —  it 
don't  hurt  anybody.  Nobody  thinks  the  worse  of  them. 
Why,  you  could  prove  conclusively  that  any  of  our  public 
men  break  the  whole  Ten  Commandments  at  a  smash 
—  break  'em  for  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper,  and  it 
wouldn't  hurt  'em.  People  only  oh  and  ah  and  roll  up 
their  eyes  and  say  '  Terrible !  '  and  go  out  to  meet  him,  and 
it 's  'My  dear  fellow,  how  are  you?  why  haven't  you  been 
round  to  our  house  lately  ? '  By  and  by  they  say,  '  Look 
here,  we  're  tired  of  this  about  Brown,  give  us  more  va 
riety.  '  Then  Jones  turns  up,  and  off  go  the  whole  pack 
after  Jones.  That  keeps  matters  lively,  you  see." 

I  laughed,  and  Jim  was  perfectly  satisfied.  All  that  he 
ever  wanted  in  an  argument  was  to  raise  a  laugh,  and  he 
was  triumphant,  and  went  scratching  on  with  his  work 
with  untiring  industry.  He  always  left  me  with  an  un 
easy  feeling,  that  by  laughing  and  letting  him  alone  I  was 
but  half  doing  my  duty,  and  yet  it  seemed  about  as  feasible 
to  present  moral  considerations  to  a  bobolink. 

"There,"  he  said,  after  half  an  hour  of  scribbling, 
"there  's  so  much  for  old  Mam." 

"Who 'sold  'Mam'?" 

"Haven't  heard?  why,  your  mistress  and  mine,  the  old 
Mammon  of  unrighteousness;  she  is  mistress  of  all  things 
here  below.  You  can't  even  carry  on  religion  in  this 
world  but  through  her.  You  must  court  old  Mam,  or 
your  churches,  and  your  missions,  and  all  the  rest  go  under, 
and  Jim  works  hard  for  her,  and  she  owes  him  a  living." 

"There  have  been  men  in  our  day  who  prevailed  in 
spite  of  her." 

"Who,  for  example?" 

"Garrison." 

"Well,  he's  top  of  the  heap  now,  sure  enough,  but  I 
tell  you  that  was  a  long  investment.  Jim  has  to  run  on 
ready  cash  and  sell  what 's  asked  for  now.  I  stand  at  my 


218  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

counter,  '  Walk  up,  gentlemen,  what  '11  you  take  ?  Orders 
taken  and  executed  with  promptness  and  dispatch.  Reli 
gion?  yes,  sir.  Here  's  the  account  of  the  work  of  Divine 
grace  in  Skowhegan;  fifty  awakened  and  thirty-nine  indul 
ging  in  hope.  Here  's  criticism  on  Boanerges'  orthodoxy, 
showing  how  he  departs  from  the  great  vital  doctrines  of 
grace,  giving  up  Hell  and  all  the  other  consolations  of  our 
holy  religion.  We  '11  serve  you  out  orthodoxy  red  hot. 
Anything  in  this  line?  Here  's  the  latest  ahout  sweet  lit 
tle  Dame  aux  Camelias,  and  lovely  little  Kitty  Blondine. 

"  Oh!  Kitty  is  my  darling,  my  darling,  my  darling,"  etc. 

And  here  's  the  reformatory,  red  hot,  hit  or  miss,  here  's 
for  the  niggers  and  the  Paddies  and  the  women  and  all  the 
enslaved  classes.  Jim  will  go  it  for  any  of  them,  only 
give  him  his  price.'  I  think  of  getting  up  a  show-bill 
with  list  of  prices  affixed.  Jim  will  run  anybody  up  or 
run  anybody  down  to  order." 

I  put  my  hand  over  his  mouth.  "Come,  you  born 
magpie,"  said  I,  "you  sha'n't  make  yourself  out  so  much 
worse  than  you  are." 

[Eva  Van  Arsdel  to  Isabel  Convers.] 

MY  DEAR  BELLE,  —  I  told  you  I  would  write  the  end  of 
my  little  adventure,  and  whether  the  "hermit  "  comes  or 
not.  Yes,  my  dear,  sure  enough,  he  did  come,  and  mamma 
and  we  all  like  him  immensely;  he  had  really  quite  a  suc 
cess  among  us.  Even  Ida,  who  never  receives  calls,  was 
gracious,  and  allowed  him  to  come  into  her  sanctum  because 
he  is  a  champion  of  the  modern  idea  about  women.  Have 
you  seen  an  article  in  the  "Milky  Way"  on  the  WTomen 
of  our  Times,  taking  the  modern  radical  ground  ?  Well,  it 
was  by  him ;  it  suited  Ida  to  a  hair,  but  some  little  things 
in  it  vexed  me  because  there  was  a  phrase  or  two  about  the 
"fashionable  butterflies,"  and  all  that;  that  comes  a  great 


FLIRTATION  219 

deal  too  near  the  truth  to  be  altogether  agreeable.  I  don't 
care  when  Ida  says  such  things,  because  she 's  another 
woman,  and  between  ourselves  we  know  there  is  a  deal  of 
nonsense  current  among  us,  and  if  we  have  a  mind  to  talk 
about  it  among  ourselves,  why,  it 's  like  abusing  one's  own 
relations  in  the  bosom  of  the  family,  one  of  the  sweetest 
domestic  privileges,  you  know;  but,  when  lordly  man  be 
gins  to  come  to  judgment  and  call  over  the  roll  of  our  sins, 
I  am  inclined  to  tell  him  to  look  at  home,  and  to  say, 
"Pray,  what  do  you  know  about  us,  sir?  "  I  stand  up  for 
my  sex,  right  or  wrong;  so  you  see,  we  had  a  spicy  little 
controversy,  and  I  made  the  hermit  open  his  eyes  (and, 
between  us,  he  has  handsome  eyes  to  open).  He  looked 
innocently  astonished  at  first  to  be  taken  up  so  briskly 
and  called  to  account  for  his  sayings.  You  see,  the  way 
these  men  have  of  going  on  and  talking  without  book  about 
us  quite  blinds  them;  they  can  set  us  down  conclusively 
in  the  abstract  when  they  don't  see  us  or  hear  us,  but  when 
a  real  live  girl  meets  them  and  asks  an  account  of  their 
sayings  they  begin  to  be  puzzled.  However,  I  must  say 
my  lord  can  talk  when  he  fairly  is  put  up  to  it.  He  is 
a  true,  serious,  earnest-hearted  man,  and  does  talk  beauti 
fully,  and  his  eyes  speak  when  he  is  silent.  The  forepart 
of  the  evening,  you  see,  we  were  in  a  state  of  most  charm 
ing  agreement;  he  was  in  our  little  "Italy,"  and  we  had 
the  nicest  of  times  going  over  all  the  pictures  and  portfolios 
and  the  dear  old  Italian  life;  it  seems  as  if  we  had  both 
of  us  seen,  and  thought  of,  and  liked  the  same  things  —  it 
was  really  curious ! 

Well,  like  enough,  that 's  all  there  is  to  it.  Ten  to  one 
he  never  will  call  again.  Mamma  invited  him  to  be  here 
every  Wednesday,  quite  urged  it  upon  him,  but  he  said 
his  time  was  so  filled  up  with  work.  There,  you  see,  is 
where  men  have  the  advantage  of  girls!  They  have  some 
thing  definite  to  fill  up  their  time,  thought,  and  hearts;  we 


220  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

nothing,  so  we  think  of  them  from  sheer  idleness,  and 
they  forget  us  through  press  of  business.  Ten  to  one  he 
never  calls  here  again.  Why  should  he?  I  shouldn't 
think  he  would.  I  would  n't  if  I  were  he.  He  is  n't  a 
dancing  man,  nor  an  idler,  but  one  that  takes  life  earnestly, 
and,  after  all,  I  dare  say  he  thinks  us  fashionable  girls  a  sad 
set.  But  I'm  sure  he  must  admire  Ida;  and  she  was 
wonderfully  gracious  for  her,  and  gave  him  the  entree  of 
her  sanctum,  where  there  never  are  any  but  rational  say 
ings  and  doings. 

Well,  we  shallsee. 

I  am  provoked  with  what  you  tell  me  about  the  reports 
of  my  engagement  to  Mr.  Sydney,  and  I  tell  you  now  once 
again,  "No,  no."  I  told  you  in  my  last  that  I  was  not 
engaged,  and  I  now  tell  you  what  is  more,  that  I  never  can, 
shall,  or  will  be  engaged  to  him;  my  mind  is  made  up, 
but  how  to  get  out  of  the  net  that  is  closing  round  me  I 
don't  see.  I  think  all  these  things  are  "perplexing  and 
disagreeable."  If  a  girl  wants  to  do  the  fair  thing  it  is 
hard  to  know  how.  First  you  refuse  outright,  and  then 
my  lord  comes  as  a  friend.  Will  you  only  allow  him  the 
liberty  to  try  and  alter  your  feelings,  and  all  that?  You 
shall  not  be  forced;  he  only  wants  you  to  get  more  ac 
quainted,  and  the  result  is  you  go  on  getting  webbed  and 
meshed  in  day  after  day  more  and  more.  You  can't  refuse 
flowers  and  attentions  offered  by  a  friend;  if  you  take 
them  you  may  be  quite  sure  they  will  be  made  to  mean 
more.  Mamma  and  Aunt  Maria  have  a  provoking  way  of 
talking  about  it  constantly  as  a  settled  thing,  and  one  can't 
protest  from  morning  till  night,  apropos  to  every  word. 
At  first  they  urged  me  to  receive  his  attentions;  now  they 
are  saying  that  I  have  accepted  so  many  I  can't  honorably 
withdraw.  And  so  he  doesn't  really  give  me  an  opportu 
nity  to  bring  the  matter  to  a  crisis;  he  has  a  silent  taking- 
for-granted  air  that  is  provoking.  But  the  law 


FLIRTATION  221 

our  sex  is  the  law  of  all  ghosts  and  spirits,  — we  can't  speak 
till  we  are  spoken  to;  meanwhile  reports  spread,  and  peo 
ple  say  hateful  things  as  if  you  were  trying  and  failing. 
How  angry  that  makes  me !  One  is  almost  tempted  some 
times  to  accept  just  to  show  that  one  can;  but,  seriously, 
dear  Belle,  this  is  wicked  trifling.  Marriage  is  an  awful, 
a  tremendous  thing,  and  we  of  the  Church  are  without 
excuse  if  we  go  into  it  lightly  or  unadvisedly,  and  I  never 
shall  marry  till  I  see  the  man  that  is  my  fate.  I  have 
what  mamma  calls  domestic  ideas,  and  I  'm  going  to  have 
them,  and  when  I  marry  it  shall  be  for  the  man  alone,  not 
a  pieced-up  affair  of  carriages,  horses,  diamonds,  opera- 
boxes,  cashmeres  with  a  man,  but  a  man  for  whom  all  the 
world  were  well  lost;  then  I  shall  not  be  afraid  of  the 
Church  service  which  now  stands  between  me  and  Mr. 
Sydney.  I  cannot,  I  dare  not,  lie  to  God  and  swear  falsely 
at  the  altar  to  gain  the  whole  world. 

I  wish  you  could  hear  our  new  rector.  He  is  making  a 
sensation  among  us.  If  the  life  he  is  calling  on  us  all  to 
live  is  the  real  and  true  one,  we  shall  soon  have  to  choose 
between  what  is  called  society  and  the  Church ;  for  if  being 
a  Churchwoman  means  all  he  says,  one  cannot  be  in  it 
without  really  making  religion  the  life's  business  —  which, 
you  know,  we  none  of  us  do  or  have.  Dear  man,  when 
I  see  him  tugging  and  straining  to  get  our  old,  sleepy,  rich 
families  into  heavenly  ways,  I  think  of  Pegasus  yoked  to 
a  stone  cart.  He  is  all  life  and  energy  and  enthusiasm, 
he  breathes  fire,  and  his  wings  are  spread  heavenward,  but 
there's  the  old  dead,  lumbering  cart  at  his  heels!  Poor 
man !  —  and  poor  cart  too  —  for  I  am  in  it  with  the  rest  of 
the  lumber! 

We  are  in  all  the  usual  spring  agonies  now  about  clothes. 
The  house  reverberates  with  the  discussion  of  hats  and 
bonnets,  and  feathers  and  flowers,  and  overskirts  and  un 
derskirts,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  —  and  what  an  absurd 


222  MY   WIFE    AND   I 

combination  it  makes  with  the  daily  services  in  Lent. 
Absurd  ?  No  —  dreadful !  for  at  church  we  are  reading  of 
our  Saviour's  poverty  and  fasting  and  agonies  —  what  a 
contrast  between  his  life  and  ours!  Was  it  to  make  us 
such  as  we  are  that  he  thus  lived  and  died? 

Cousin  Sophia  is  happy  in  her  duties  in  the  sisterhood. 
Her  church  life  and  daily  life  are  all  of  a  piece  —  one  part 
is  not  a  mockery  of  the  other.  There  's  Ida,  too  —  out  of 
the  Church,  making  no  profession  of  churchly  religion,  but 
living  wholly  out  of  this  bustling,  worldly  sphere,  devoted 
to  a  noble  life  purpose  —  fitting  herself  to  make  new  and 
better  paths  for  women.  Ida  has  none  of  these  dress  trou 
bles;  she  has  cut  loose  from  all.  Her  simple  black  dress 
costs  incredibly  less  than  our  outfit  —  it  is  all  arranged 
with  a  purpose  —  yet  she  always  has  the  air  of  a  lady,  and 
she  has  besides  a  real  repose,  which  we  never  have.  This 
matter  of  dress  has  a  thousand  jars  and  worries  and  vexa 
tions  to  a  fastidious  nature;  one  wishes  one  were  out  of  it. 

I  have  heard  that  nuns  often  say  they  are  more  blessed 
than  ever  they  were  in  the  world,  and  I  can  conceive  why, 
—  it  is  a  perfect  and  blissful  rest  from  all  that  troubles 
ordinary  women.  In  the  first  place,  the  marriage  question. 
They  know  that  they  are  not  to  be  married,  and  it  is  a 
comfort  to  have  a  definite  settlement  of  that  matter. 
Then  all  agitations  and  fluctuations  about  that  are  over. 
In  the  next  place,  the  dress  question.  They  have  a  dress 
provided,  put  it  on,  and  wear  it  without  thought  or  in 
quiry;  there  is  no  room  for  thought,  or  use  for  inquiry. 
In  the  third  place,  the  question  of  sphere  and  work  is  set 
tled  for  them;  they  know  their  duties  exactly;  and  if  they 
don't,  there  is  a  director  to  tell  them;  they  have  only  to 
obey.  This  must  be  rest  —  blissful  rest. 

I  think  of  it  sometimes,  and  wonder  why  it  is  that  this 
dress  question  must  smother  us  women  and  wear  us  out, 
and  take  our  whole  life  and  breath  as  it  does!  In  our 


FLIRTATION  223 

family  it  is  perfectly  fearful.  If  one  had  only  one's  self 
to  please  it  is  hard  enough  —  what  with  one's  own  fas 
tidious  taste,  with  dressmakers  who  never  keep  their  word, 
and  push  you  off  at  the  last  moment  with  abominable 
things;  but  when  one  has  pleased  one's  self,  then  comes 
mamma,  and  then  all  the  girls,  every  one  with  an  opinion; 
and  then,  when  this  gauntlet  is  run,  comes  Aunt  Maria, 
more  solemn  and  dictatorial  than  the  wrhole  —  so  that  by 
the  time  anything  gets  really  settled  one  is  so  fatigued 
that  life  does  n't  seem  really  worth  having. 

I  told  Mr.  Henderson,  in  our  little  discussion  last  night, 
that  I  envied  men  because  they  had  a  chance  to  live  a  real, 
grand,  heroic  life,  while  we  were  smothered  under  trifles 
and  commonplaces,  and  he  said,  in  reply,  that  the  men  had 
no  more  chances  in  this  way  than  we;  that  theirs  was  a 
life  of  drudgeries  and  detail;  and  that  the  only  way  for 
man  or  woman  was  to  animate  ordinary  duties  by  a  heroic 
spirit.  He  said  that  woman's  specialty  was  to  idealize  life 
by  shedding  a  noble  spirit  upon  its  ordinary  trifles.  I 
don't  think  he  is  altogether  right.  I  still  think  the  oppor 
tunities  for  a  noble  life  are  ten  to  one  in  the  hands  of 
men;  but  still  there  is  a  great  deal  in  what  he  says.  He 
spoke  beautifully  of  the  noble  spirit  shown  by  some  women 
in  domestic  life.  I  thought  perhaps  it  was  his  mother  he 
was  thinking  of.  He  must  have  known  some  noble  woman, 
for  his  eye  kindled  when  he  spoke  about  it. 

How  I  have  run  on  —  and  what  a  medley  this  letter  is. 
I  dare  not  look  it  over,  for  I  should  be  sure  to  toss  it  into 
the  fire.  Write  to  me  soon,  dearest  Bella,  and  tell  me 
what  you  think  of  matters  so  far. 

Your  ever  loving  EVA. 


CHAPTEE  XIX 

I    BECOME    A    FAMILY    FRIEND 

I  HAVE  often  had  occasion  to  admire  the  philosophical 
justice  of  popular  phrases.  The  ordinary  cant  phraseology 
of  life  generally  represents  a  homely  truth  because  it  has 
grown  upon  reality  like  a  lichen  upon  a  rock.  "Falling  in 
love"  is  a  phrase  of  this  kind;  it  represents  just  that  phe 
nomenon  which  is  all  the  time  happening  among  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  Adam  in  most  unforeseen  times  and  sea 
sons,  and  often  when  the  subject  least  intends  it,  and  even 
intends  something  quite  the  contrary. 

The  popular  phrase  "falling  in  love"  denotes  something 
that  comes  unexpectedly.  One  may  walk  into  love  pre 
paredly,  advisedly,  with  the  eyes  of  one's  understanding 
open;  but  one  falls  in  love  as  one  falls  downstairs  in  a 
dark  entry,  simply  because  the  foot  is  set  where  there  is 
nothing  for  it  to  stand  on,  which  I  take  to  be  a  simile  of 
most  philosophical  good  resolutions. 

I  nattered  myself  at  this  period  of  my  existence  that  I 
was  a  thorough-paced  philosopher;  a  man  that  had  out 
lived  the  snares  and  illusions  of  youth,  and  held  himself 
and  all  his  passions  and  affections  under  most  perfect  con 
trol.  The  time  had  not  yet  come  marked  out  in  my  su 
preme  wisdom  for  me  to  meditate  matrimonial  ideas :  in 
the  mean  while,  I  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  that  plea 
sant  and  convenient  arbor  on  the  Hill  Difficulty  which  is 
commonly  called  Friendship. 

Concerning  this  arbor  I  have  certain  observations  to 
make.  It  is  most  commodiously  situated,  and  commands 


I   BECOME   A   FAMILY   FRIEND  225 

charming  prospects.  We  are  informed  of  some,  that  on 
a  clear  day  one  can  see  from  it  quite  plainly  as  far  as  to 
the  Delectable  Mountains.  From  my  own  experience  I 
have  no  doubt  of  this  fact.  For  a  young  man  of  five-and- 
twenty  or  thereabouts,  not  at  present  in  circumstances  to 
marry,  what  is  more  charming  than  to  become  the  intimate 
friend  in  a  circle  of  vivacious  and  interesting  young  ladies, 
in  easy  circumstances,  who  live  in  a  palace  surrounded  by 
all  the  elegances,  refinements,  and  comforts  of  life  1 

More  blissful  still,  if  he  be  welcomed  to  these  bowers 
of  beauty  by  a  charming  and  courteous  mamma  who  hopes 
he  will  make  himself  at  home,  and  assures  him  that  they 
will  treat  him  quite  as  one  of  the  family.  This  means,  of 
course,  that  perfect  confidence  is  reposed  in  his  discretion. 
He  is  labeled  —  "Safe."  He  is  to  gaze  on  all  these 
charms  with  a  disinterested  spirit,  without  a  thought  of 
personal  appropriation.  'Of  course,  he  is  not  to  stand  in 
the  way  of  eligible  establishments  that  may  offer,  but 
meanwhile  he  can  make  himself  generally  agreeable  and 
useful.  He  may  advise  the  fair  charmers  as  to  their  read 
ing  and  superintend  the  cultivation  of  their  minds;  he  may 
be  on  hand  whenever  an  escort  is  needed  to  a  party;  he 
may  brighten  up  dull  evenings  by  reading  aloud,  and,  in 
short,  may  be  that  useful  individual  that  is  looked  on 
"quite  as  a  brother,  you  know." 

Young  men  who  glide  into  this  position  in  families 
generally,  I  believe,  enjoy  it  quite  as  much  as  the  moth- 
millers  who  seem  to  derive  such  pleasure  from  the  light 
and  heat  of  the  evening  lamp,  and  with  somewhat  similar 
results.  But  though  thousands  of  these  unsophisticated 
insects  singe  their  wings  every  evening,  the  thousand- 
and-first  one  comes  to  the  charge  with  a  light  heart  in 
his  bosom,  and  quite  as  satisfied  of  his  gobd  fortune  as  I 
was  when  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  with  the  sweetest  and  most 
motherly  tones  said  to  me,  "I  know,  Mr.  Henderson,  the 


226  MY  WIFE   AND  I 

lonely  life  you  young  men  must  lead  when  you  first  come 
to  cities;  you  have  been  accustomed  to  the  home  circle,  to 
mother  and  sisters,  and  it  must  be  very  dreary.  Pray, 
make  this  a  sort  of  home ;  drop  in  at  any  time ;  our  parlors 
are  always  open,  and  some  of  us  about;  or  if  not,  why, 
there  are  the  pictures  and  the  books,  you  know,  and  there 
is  the  library  where  you  can  write." 

Surely  it  was  impossible  for  a  young  man  to  turn  away 
from  all  this  allurement.  It  was  the  old  classic  story :  — 

"  The  mother  Circe  with  the  Syrens  three, 
Among  the  flowery  kirtled  ISTa'ides." 

Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  as  I  said,  was  one  of  three  fair  sisters 
who  had  attained  a  great  celebrity,  in  the  small  provincial 
town  where  they  were  born,  for  their  personal  charms. 
They  were  known  far  and  near  as  the  beautiful  Miss 
Askotts.  Their  father  was  a  man  rather  in  the  lower 
walks  of  life,  and  the  fortunes  of  the  family  were  made 
solely  by  the  personal  attractions  of  the  daughters. 

The  oldest  of  these,  Maria  Askott,  married  into  one  of 
the  so-called  first  New  York  families.  The  match  was 
deemed  in  the  day  of  it  a  very  brilliant  one.  Tom  Wouver- 
mans  was  rich,  showy,  and  dissipated;  and  in  a  very  few 
years  ran  through  both  his  property  and  constitution,  and 
left  his  wife  the  task  of  maintaining  a  genteel  standing 
on  very  limited  means. 

The  second  sister,  'Ellen,  married  Mr.  Van  Arsdel  when 
he  was  in  quite  modest  circumstances,  and  had  been  carried 
up  steadily  by  his  business  ability  to  the  higher  circles  of 
New  York  life.  The  third  had  married  a  rich  Southern 
planter  whose  fortunes  have  nothing  to  do  with  my  story. 

The  Van  Arsdel  household,  like  most  American  families, 
was  substantially  under  feminine  rule.  Mr.  Van  Arsdel 
was  a  quiet,  silent  man,  whose  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in 
business,  and  who  left  to  his  wife  the  whole  charge  of  all 
that  concerned  the  household  and  his  children.  Mrs.  Van 


I   BECOME   A  FAMILY  FRIEND  227 

Arsdel,  however,  was  under  the  control  of  her  elder  sister. 
There  are  born  dictators  as  well  as  born  poets.  Certain 
people  come  into  the  world  with  the  instinct  and. talent  for 
ruling  and  teaching,  and  certain  others  with  the  desire  and 
instinct  of  being  taught  and  ruled  over.  There  are  people 
born  with  such  a  superfluous  talent  for  management  and 
dictation  that  they  always,  instinctively  and  as  a  matter 
of  course,  arrange  not  only  their  own  affairs,  but  those  of 
their  friends  and  relations,  in  the  most  efficient  and  com 
plete  manner  possible.  Such  is  the  tendency  of  things  to 
adaptation  and  harmony,  that  where  such  persons  exist  we 
are  sure  to  find  them  surrounded  by  those  who  take  delight 
in  being  guided,  who  like  to  learn  and  to  look  up.  Such 
a  domestic  ruler  was  Mrs.  Maria  Wouvermans,  commonly 
known  in  the  Van  Arsdel  circle  as  "Aunt  Maria,"  a  name 
of  might  and  authority  anxiously  interrogated  and  quoted 
in  all  passages  of  family  history. 

Now  the  fact  is  quite  striking  that  the  persons  who  hold 
this  position  in  domestic  policy  are  often  not  particularly 
strong  or  wise.  The  governing  mind  of  many  a  circle  is 
not  by  any  means  the  mind  best  fitted  either  mentally  or 
morally  to  govern.  It  is  neither  the  best  nor  the  cleverest 
individual  of  a  given  number  who  influences  their  opinions 
and  conduct,  but  the  person  the  most  perseveringly  self- 
asserting.  It  is  amusing  in  looking  at  the  world  to  see 
how  much  people  are  taken  at  their  own  valuation.  The 
persons  who  always  have  an  opinion  on  every  possible  sub 
ject  ready  made,  and  put  up  and  labeled  for  immediate  use, 
concerning  which  they  have  no  shadow  of  a  doubt  or  hesi 
tation,  are  from  that  very  quality  born  rulers.  This  posi- 
tiveness,  and  preparedness,  and  readiness  may  spring  from 
a  universal  shallowness  of  nature,  but  it  is  none  the  less 
efficient.  While  people  of  deeper  perceptions  and  more 
insight  are  wavering  in  delicate  distresses,  balancing  testi 
mony  and  praying  for  light,  this  commonplace  obtuseness 


228  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

comes  in  and  leads  all  captive,  by  mere  force  of  knowing 
exactly  what  it  wants,  and  being  incapable  of  seeing  be 
yond  the  issues  of  the  moment. 

Mrs.  Maria  Wouvermans  was  all  this.  She  always  be 
lieved  in  herself,  from  the  cradle.  The  watchwords  of  her 
conversation  were  always  of  a  positive  nature.  "  To  be  sure, " 
"certainly,"  "of  course,"  "I  see,"  and  "I  told  you  so." 

Correspondingly  to  this,  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  her  next  sis 
ter,  was  one  who  said  habitually,  "What  would  you  do, 
and  how  would  you  do  it  1  "  and  so  the  domestic  duet  was 
complete.  Mrs.  Wouvermans  did  not  succeed  in  governing 
or  reclaiming  her  husband,  but  she  was  none  the  less  self- 
confident  for  that;  and  having  seen  him  comfortably  into 
his  grave,  she  had  nothing  to  do  but  get  together  the  small 
remains  of  the  estate  and  devote  herself  to  "dear  Ellen  and 
her  children. "  Mrs.  Wouvermans  managed  her  own  house, 
where  everything  was  arranged  with  the  strictest  attention 
and  economy,  and  to  the  making  a  genteel  appearance  on 
a  small  sum,  and  yet  found  abundance  of  time  to  direct 
sister  Ellen  and  her  children. 

She  was  a  good-natured,  pleasant-mannered  woman,  fond 
of  her  nieces  and  nephews ;  and  her  perfect  faith  in  her 
self,  the  decision  of  all  her  announcements,  and  the  habit 
ual  attitude  of  consultation  in  which  the  mother  of  the 
family  stood  towards  her,  led  the  Van  Arsdel  children  as 
they  grew  up  to  consider  "Aunt  Maria,"  like  the  Bible  or 
civil  government,  as  one  of  the  great  ready-made  facts  of 
society,  to  be  accepted  without  dispute  or  inquiry. 

Mrs.  Wouvermans  had  her  own  idea  of  the  summum 
bonum,  that  great  obscure  point  about  which  philosophers 
have  groped  in  vain.  Had  Plato  or  Anaxagoras  or  any  of 
those  ancient  worthies  appealed  to  her,  she  would  have 
smiled  on  them  benignantly,  and  said,  "  Why,  yes,  of  course, 
don't  you  see?  the  thing  is  very  simple.  You  must  keep 
the  best  society  and  make  a  good  appearance." 


I   BECOME   A   FAMILY   FRIEND  229 

Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  had  been  steadily  guided  by  her  in  the 
paths  of  fashionable  progression.  Having  married  into  a 
rich  old  family,  Aunt  Maria  was  believed  to  have  myste 
rious  and  incommunicable  secrets  of  gentility  at  her  com 
mand.  She  was  always  supposed  to  have  an  early  insight 
into  the  secret  counsels  of  that  sublime,  awful,  mysteri 
ous  they,  who  give  the  law  in  fashionable  life.  "They 
don't  wear  bonnets  that  way,  now!"  "My  love,  they 
wear  gloves  sewed  with  colored  silks,  now!"  or,  "they 
have  done  with  hoops  and  flowing  sleeves,"  or,  "they  are 
beginning  to  wear  hoops  again !  They  are  going  to  wear 
long  trains,"  or,  "they  have  done  with  silver  powder 
now !  "  All  which  announcements  were  made  with  a  calm 
solemnity  of  manner  calculated  to  impress  the  youthful 
mind  with  a  sense  of  their  profound  importance. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel  followed  Aunt  Maria's  lead  with  that 
unquestioning  meekness  which  is  so  edifying  a  trait  in  our 
American  gentlemen.  In  fact,  he  considered  the  household 
and  all  its  works  and  ways  as  an  insoluble  mystery  which 
he  was  well  pleased  to  leave  to  his  wife;  and  if  his  wife 
chose  to  be  guided  by  "Maria"  he  had  no  objection.  So 
long  as  his  business  talent  continued  yearly  to  enlarge  his 
means  of  satisfying  the  desires  and  aspirations  of  his  fam 
ily,  so  long  he  was  content  quietly  and  silently  to  ascend 
in  the  scale  of  luxurious  living,  to  have  his  house  moved 
from  quarter  to  quarter  until  he  reached  a  Fifth  Avenue 
palace,  to  fill  it  with  pictures  and  statuary,  of  which  he 
knew  little  and  cared  less. 

Under  Aunt  Maria's  directions  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  aspired 
to  be  a  leader  in  fashionable  society.  No  house  was  to  be 
so  attractive  as  hers,  no  parties  so  brilliant,  no  daughters 
in  greater  demand.  Nature  had  generously  seconded  her 
desires.  Her  daughters  were  all  gifted  with  fine  personal 
points  as  well  as  a  more  than  common  share  of  that  spicy 
genial  originality  of  mind  which  is,  as  a  general  thing, 
rather  a  characteristic  of  young  American  girls. 


230  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel  had  had  his  say  about  the  education  of 
his  sons  and  daughters.  No  expense  had  been  spared. 
They  had  been  sent  to  the  very  best  schools  that  money 
could  procure,  and  had  improved  their  advantages.  The 
consequences  of  education  had  been  as  usual  to  increase  the 
difficulties  of  controlling  the  subject. 

The  horror  and  dismay  of  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  and  of  Aunt 
Maria  cannot  be  imagined  when  they  discovered  almost 
immediately  on  the  introduction  of  Ida  Van  Arsdel  into 
society  that  they  had  on  their  hands  an  actual  specimen  of 
the  strong-minded  young  woman  of  the  period;  a  person 
who  looked  beyond  shows,  who  did  her  own  thinking,  and 
who  despised  or  approved  with  full  vigor  without  consult 
ing  accepted  standards,  and  was  resolutely  resolved  not  to 
walk  in  the  ways  her  pastors  or  masters  had  hitherto  con 
sidered  the  only  appointed  ones  for  young  ladies  of  good 
condition. 

To  work  embroidery,  go  to  parties,  entertain  idlers,  and 
wait  to  be  chosen  in  marriage  seemed  to  a  girl  who  had 
spent  six  years  in  earnest  study  a  most  lame  and  impotent 
conclusion  to  all  that  effort;  and  when  Ida  Van  Arsdel 
declared  her  resolution  to  devote  herself  to  professional 
studies,  Aunt  Maria's  indignation  and  disgust  are  not  to 
be  described. 

"So  shocking  and  indelicate!  For  my  part,  I  can't  im 
agine  how  anybody  can  want  to  think  on  such  subjects! 
I  'm  sure  it  gives  me  a  turn  just  to  look  into  a  work  on 
physiology,  and  all  those  dreadful  pictures  of  what  is  inside 
of  us!  I  think  the  less  we  know  about  such  subjects  the 
better;  women  were  made  to  be  wives  and  mothers,  and 
not  to  trouble  their  heads  about  such  matters;  and  to  think 
of  Ida,  of  all  things,  whose  father  is  rich  enough  to  keep 
her  like  a  princess  whether  she  ever  does  a  thing  or  not! 
Why  should  she  go  into  it  ?  Why,  Ida  is  not  bad  looking. 
She  is  quite  pretty,  in  fact;  there  are  a  dozen  girls  with 


I  BECOME   A  FAMILY   FRIEND  231 

not  half  her  advantages  that  have  made  good  matches,  but 
it 's  no  use  talking  to  her.  That  girl  is  obstinate  as  the  ever 
lasting  hills,  and  her  father  backs  her  up  in  it.  Well,  we 
must  let  her  go,  and  take  care  of  the  others.  Eva  is  my  god 
child,  and  we  must  at  any  rate  secure  something  for  her." 
"Something"  meant  of  course  a  splendid  establishment. 

The  time  of  my  introduction  into  the  family  circle  was  a 
critical  one. 

In  the  race  for  fashionable  leadership  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel 
had  one  rival  whose  successes  were  as  stimulating  and  as 
vexatious  to  her  as  the  good  fortune  of  Mordecai  the  Jew 
was  to  Hainan  in  Old  Testament  times.  All  her  good  for 
tune  and  successes  were  spoiled  by  the  good  fortune  and 
successes  of  another  woman,  who  was  sure  to  be  a  little 
ahead  of  her  in  everything  that  she  attempted;  and  this 
was  the  more  trying  as  this  individual  began  life  with  her, 
and  was  a  sort  of  family  connection. 

In  days  of  her  youth  there  was  one  Polly  Sanders,  a 
remote  cousin  of  the  Askotts,  who  was  reputed  a  beauty  by 
some.  Polly  was  what  is  called  in  New  England  "smart." 
She  was  one  who  never  lost  an  opportunity,  and,  as  the 
vulgar  saying  is,  could  make  every  edge  cut.  Her  charms 
were  far  less  than  those  of  the  Misses  Askott,  and  she  was 
in  far  more  straitened  circumstances;  but  she  went  at  the 
problem  of  life  in  a  sort  of  tooth-and-nail  fashion,  which 
often  is  extremely  successful.  She  worked  first  in  a  fac 
tory,  till  she  made  a  little  money,  with  which  she  put  her 
self  to  school  —  acquired  showy  accomplishments,  and  went 
up  like  a  balloon;  married  a  man  with  much  the  same 
talent  for  getting  along  in  the  world  as  herself;  went  to 
Paris,  and  returned  a  traveled,  accomplished  woman;  and 
the  pair  set  up  for  first  society  people  in  New  York,  and,  to 
the  infinite  astonishment  of  Mrs.  Wouvermans,  were  soon 
in  a  position  to  patronize  her,  and  to  run  a  race,  neck  and 
neck,  with  the  Yan  Arsdels. 


232  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

What  woman's  Christian  principles  are  adequate  to  sup 
port  her  under  such  trials  1  Nothing  ever  impressed  Aunt 
Maria  with  such  a  sense  of  the  evils  of  worldliness  as  Polly 
Elmore's  career.  She  was  fond  of  speaking  of  her  famil 
iarly  as  "Polly,"  and  recalling  the  time  when  she  was 
only  a  factory-girl.  According  to  Aunt  Maria,  such  grasp 
ing,  unscrupulous  devotion  to  things  seen  and  temporal 
had  never  been  known  in  anybody  as  in  the  case  of  Polly. 
Aunt  Maria,  of  course,  did  not  consider  herself  as  worldly. 
Nobody  ever  does.  You  do  not,  I  presume,  my  dear 
madam.  When  your  minister  preaches  about  worldly  peo 
ple,  your  mind  immediately  reverts  to  the  Joneses  and  the 
Simpsons  round  the  corner,  and  you  rather  wonder  how 
they  take  it.  In  the  same  manner  Aunt  Maria's  eyes  were 
always  being  rolled  up,  and  she  was  always  in  a  shocked 
state  at  something  these  dreadful,  worldly,  dressy  Elmores 
were  doing.  But  still  they  went  on  from  conquering  to 
conquer.  Mrs.  Elmore  was  a  dashing  leader  of  fashion  — 
spoke  French  like  a  book  —  was  credibly  reported  to  have 
skated  with  the  Emperor  at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  —  and, 
in  short,  there  was  no  saying  what  feathers  she  didn't  wear 
in  her  cap. 

The  Van  Arsdels  no  sooner  did  a  thing  than  the  Elmores 
did  more.  The  Van  Arsdels  had  a  house  in  Fifth  Avenue; 
the  Elmores  set  up  a  French  chateau  on  the  Park.  The 
Van  Arsdels  piqued  themselves  on  reclierclie,  society.  The 
Elmores  made  it  a  point  to  court  all  the  literati  and  dis 
tinguished  people.  Hence,  rising  young  men  were  of  great 
value  as  ornaments  to  the  salons  of  the  respective  houses  — 
if  they  had  brought  with  them  a  name  in  the  literary 
world  so  much  the  more  was  their  value  —  it  was  impor 
tant  to  attach  them  to  our  salon,  lest  they  should  go  to 
swell  the  triumphs  of  the  enemy. 

The  crowning,  culminating  triumph  of  the  Elmores  was 
the  engagement,  just  declared,  of  Maria,  the  eldest  daugh- 


I   BECOME   A   FAMILY   FRIEND  233 

ter,  to  young  Eivington,  of  Eivington  Manor,  concerning 
which  Aunt  Maria  and  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  were  greatly 
moved.  The  engagement  was  declared,  and  brilliant  wed 
ding  preparations  on  foot  that  should  eclipse  all  former 
New  York  grandeurs;  and  what  luminary  was  there  in 
the  Van  Arsdel  horizon  to  draw  attention  to  that  quarter? 

"Positively,  Ellen,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "the  engagement 
between  Eva  and  Wat  Sydney  must  come  out.  It  pro 
vokes  me  to  see  the  absurd  and  indelicate  airs  the  Elmores 
give  themselves  about  this  Eivington  match.  It 's  really 
in  shocking  taste.  I  'm  sure  I  don't  envy  them  Sam  Eiv 
ington.  There  are  shocking  stories  told  about  him.  They 
say  he  is  a  perfect  roue — has  been  taken  home  by  the 
police  night  after  night.  How  Polly,  with  all  her  worldli- 
ness,  can  make  such  an  utter  sacrifice  of  her  daughter  is 
what  /  can't  see.  Now  Sydney,  everybody  knows,  is  a 
strictly  correct  man.  Ellen,  this  thing  ought  to  come  out." 

"But,  dear  me,  Maria,  Eva  is  such  a  strange  child. 
She  won't  admit  that  there  is  any  engagement.7' 

"  She  must  admit  it,  Ellen  —  of  course  she  must.  It 's 
Ida  that  puts  her  up  to  all  her  strange  ideas,  and  will  end 
by  making  her  as  odd  as  she  is  herself.  There  's  that  new 
young  man,  that  Henderson  —  why  don't  we  turn  him  to 
account1?  Ida  has  taken  a  fancy  to  him,  I  hear,  and  it's 
exactly  the  thing.  Only  get  Ida's  thoughts  running  that 
way  and  she  '11  let  Eva  alone,  and  stop  putting  notions  into 
her  head.  Henderson  is  a  gentleman,  and  would  be  a  very 
proper  match  for  Ida.  He  is  literary,  and  she  is  literary. 
He  is  for  all  the  modern  ideas,  and  so  is  she.  I  'm  sure, 
I  go  with  all  my  heart  for  encouraging  him.  It 's  exactly 
the  thing." 

And  Aunt  Maria 

"  Shook  her  ambrosial  curls  and  gave  the  nod," 
with  a  magnificence  equal  to  Jupiter  in  the  old  Homeric 
days. 


CHAPTER  XX 

I    DISCOVER    THE    BEAUTIES    OF    FRIENDSHIP 

MUCH  has  been  written  lately  concerning  the  doctrine  of 
friendship  between  men  and  women.  It  is  thought  and 
said  by  some  that  there  lies  an  unexplored  territory  in  our 
American  life,  and  we  have  the  example  of  Madame  Re'ca- 
mier  set  before  us  to  show  how  perfectly  intimate  and  de 
voted  a  whole  circle  of  manly  friends  may  be  with  one  fair 
woman,  without  detriment  or  disadvantage  to  their  domes 
tic  ties  or  hers.  The  adorable  Juliet  is  the  intimate  friend 
at  once  of  Matthew  Montmorenci,  the  saint,  of  Chateau 
briand,  the  poet,  and  of  an  indefinite  number  of  artists  and 
men  of  letters,  all  of  whom  address  her  in  language  of  ado 
ration  and  devotion,  and  receive  from  her  affectionate  mes 
sages  in  return.  Chateaubriand  spends  every  afternoon 
with  Juliet,  and  every  evening  with  his  invalid  wife,  like 
a  devoted  and  dutiful  husband,  and  this  state  of  things  goes 
on  from  year  to  year  without  trouble  and  without  scandal. 

It  was  with  some  such  sublimated  precedent  in  my  head 
that  I  allowed  myself  to  yield  to  the  charming  temptation 
opened  to  me  by  my  acquaintance  with  Eva  Van  Arsdel. 
Supposing  by  Jim's  account  that  she  was  already  engaged, 
looking  on  myself  as  yet  far  off  from  the  place  where  I 
could  think  of  marriage,  what  was  there  to  hinder  my  en 
joying  her  society?  Of  course,  there  was  no  possible 
danger  to  myself,  and  it  would  be  absolute  coxcombry  to 
think  that  there  would  be  any  to  her.  She,  who  had  been 
a  queen  of  fashion,  and  who  had  the  world  under  her  feet, 
if  she  deigned  to  think  kindly  of  a  poor  litterateur,  it 


I  DISCOVER   THE   BEAUTIES   OF  FRIENDSHIP        235 

could  surely  lead  to  nothing  dangerous.  I  might  have  been 
warned,  if  I  were  wise,  by  the  fact  that  the  night  after  my 
first  presentation  I  lay  awake  and  thought  over  all  she  had 
said,  and  counted  the  days  that  should  intervene  before 
next  Wednesday  evening.  I  would  not  for  the  world  have 
had  Jim  Fellows  divine  what  was  going  on  within  me ;  in 
fact,  I  took  as  much  pains  to  cajole  and  pacify  and  take 
myself  in  as  if  I  had  been  a  third  party. 

I  woke  about  six  o'clock  in  the  dim  gray  of  the  next 
morning,  from  a  dream  in  which  Eva  and  I  were  talking 
together,  when  she  seemed  so  vivid  that  I  started  up  almost 
feeling  that  I  saw  her  face  in  the  air.  Suddenly  I  heard 
the  bell  of  a  neighboring  church  strike  the  hour,  and 
thought  of  what  she  had  said  the  evening  before  about 
attending  morning  services. 

What  was  to  hinder  my  going  to  the  church  and  seeing 
her  again?  There  was  a  brisk  morning  walk,  that  was  a 
good  thing,  and  certainly  morning  devotion  was  something 
so  altogether  right  and  reasonable  that  I  wondered  I  never 
had  thought  of  it  before.  I  dressed  myself  and  turned  out 
into  the  streets  to  seek  the  little  church  of  the  Holy  Sepul 
chre  where  the  new  rector  of  whom  Eva  had  spoken  held 
early  Lenten  services. 

There  was  something  quaint  and  rather  exciting  to  my 
imagination  to  be  one  of  a  small  band  who  sought  the 
church  at  this  early  hour.  The  sunlight  of  the  rising  day 
streamed  through  the  painted  window  and  touched  with 
a  sort  of  glory  the  white  dress  of  the  priest;  the  organ 
played  softly  in  subdued  melody,  and  the  words  of  the 
morning  service  had  a  sort  of  touching  lovely  sound. 
"Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name, 
there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them  "  seemed  to  come  to  my 
thoughts  with  new  force  as  I  looked  on  the  small  number, 
two  or  three  in  a  pew,  who  were  scattered  up  and  down 
through  the  church.  She  was  there  in  a  seat  not  far  from 


236  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

me,  shrouded  in  a  simple  black  dress  and  veil,  and  seemed 
wholly  and  entirely  absorbed  by  her  Prayer- Book  and  devo 
tions. 

As  the  little  company  dispersed  at  the  close  of  the  ser 
vices,  I  stood  in  the  door  and  joined  her  as  she  passed  out. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Van  Arsdel,"  I  said. 

She  started  and  looked  surprised,  and  a  bright  color 
flushed  in  her  cheeks. 

"Mr.  Henderson!  you  quite  astonish  me." 

"Why  so?" 

"There  are  so  very  few  who  get  out  at  this  hour;  and 
you,  I  believe,  are  not  of  the  Church." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  the  Church,  exactly," 
said  I. 

"Oh,"  said  she,  looking  at  me  with  a  conscious  smile, 
"  I  know  what  everybody  means  that  says  the  Church  — 
it  generally  means  our  Church  —  the  one  that  is  the  Church 
for  us;  but  you,  I  think,  belong  to  the  Bethany,"  she 
added. 

"I  do,"  said  I,  "but  I  have  large  sympathies  for  all 
others,  particularly  for  yours,  which  seems  to  me  in  some 
points  more  worthily  to  represent  what  a  church  should 
be  than  any  other." 

She  looked  pleased,  and  said  with  warmth,  "Mr.  Hen 
derson,  you  must  not  judge  our  Church  by  such  very 
imperfect  specimens  as  you  see  among  us.  We  are  very 
unworthy  children  of  a  noble  mother;  our  Church  has 
everything  in  it  to  call  us  to  the  highest  and  best  life, 
only  we  fall  far  below  her  teaching." 

"I  think  I  can  see,"  I  said,  "that  if  the  scheme  of  liv 
ing  set  forth  by  the  Episcopal  Church  were  carried  out 
with  warmth  and  devotion,  it  would  make  an  ideal  sort  of 
society. " 

"It  would  be  a  really  consecrated  life,"  she  said,  with 
warmth.  "If  all  would  agree  to  unite  in  daily  morning 


I  DISCOVER   THE   BEAUTIES   OF  FRIENDSHIP        237 

and  evening  prayers  for  instance,"  she  said,  "how  beauti 
ful  it  would  be.  I  never  enjoy  reading  my  Bible  alone  in 
my  room  as  I  do  to  have  it  read  to  me  here  in  church; 
somehow  to  me  there  is  a  sacred  charm  about  it  when  I 
hear  it  read  there,  and  then  to  have  friends,  neighbors,  and 
families  meet  and  pray  together  as  one,  every  day,  would 
be  beautiful.  I  often  think  I  should  like  to  live  close  by 
one  of  those  beautiful  English  cathedrals  where  they  have 
choral  services  every  day,  and  I  would  go  morning  and 
evening,  but  here,  in  this  dreadful,  flashy,  busy,  bustling 
New  York,  there  is  no  such  thing,  I  suppose,  as  getting 
any  number  of  people  to  agree  to  daily  worship." 

"In  that  respect,"  said  I,  "we  modern  Christians  seem 
to  be  less  devout  than  the  ancient  heathen  or  the  Moham 
medans;  you  recollect  Hajji  Baba  sums  up  the  difference 
between  the  Englishman  and  the  Persian  by  saying,  *  We 
Persians  pray  seven  times  a  day,  and  they,  never. ' ' 

"I  like  to  come  to  church,"  she  said;  "it  seems  a  shelter 
and  a  refuge.  Nowadays  there  are  so  many  things  said 
that  one  doesn't  know  what  to  think  of;  so  many  things 
disputed  that  one  has  always  supposed  to  be  true ;  such  a 
perfectly  fatiguing  rush  of  ideas  and  assertions  and  new 
ways  that  for  my  part  I  am  glad  to  fall  back  upon  some 
thing  old  and  established,  that  I  feel  sure  isn't  going  to 
melt  away  into  mist  before  to-morrow." 

"I  'can  well  appreciate  that  feeling,"  I  said,  "for  I  have 
it  myself." 

"Do  you?  Oh,  Mr.  Henderson,  you  don't  know  how 
it  perplexes  one.  There  's  sister  Ida,  now!  she  has  a  cir 
cle  of  friends  —  the  very  nicest  sort  of  people  they  seem  to 
be !  —  but,  dear  me !  when  I  am  with  them  a  little  while, 
I  get  perfectly  bewildered.  No  two  of  them  seem  to  be 
lieve  alike  on  any  subject;  and  if  you  quote  the  Bible  to 
them,  they  just  open  their  eyes  and  look  amazed  at  you, 
as  if  that  was  something  quite  behind  the  age;  and  as 


238  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

there  is  no  standard  with  them,  of  course  there  is  nothing 
settled.  You  feel  as  if  life  was  built  on  water,  and  every 
thing  was  rocking  and  tilting  till  you  are  quite  dizzy. 
Now,  I  know  I  am  a  poor  sort  of  a  specimen  of  a  Chris 
tian;  but  /couldn't  live  so!  I  fly  back  from  this  sort  of 
thing,  like  a  frightened  bird,  and  take  refuge  in  the  Church 

—  there  is  something  fixed,  positive,  and  definite,  that  has 
stood  the  test  of  time;   it  is  noble  and  dignified,   and  I 
abide  by  that." 

"There  is  all  that  about  it,"  said  I;  "and  so  very  much 
that  is  attractive  and  charming  in  the  forms  of  your  Church, 
that  I  think  if  you  would  only  open  your  arms  wide,  and 
be  liberal  as  the  spirit  of  this  age,  you  would  indeed  be  the 
Church  of  the  world." 

"  You  think  we  are  not  liberal  1 "  she  said. 

"When  you  call  yourselves  the  Church,  and  make  no 
account  of  all  that  true,  pure,  good  souls  —  true  followers 
of  the  same  Saviour  —  are  doing,  it  seems  to  me  you  are 
not." 

"Ah,  well,  Mr.  Henderson,  perhaps  we  are  wrong  there 

—  I  cannot  say.      I  know   there   are  many  churches  and 
many  dear,  good  souls  in  all;  it  is  only  to  me  that  mine  is 
the  Church;  if  that  is  an  illusion,  it  is  a  happy  one." 

"Now,"  said  I,  "what  a  dreary  picture  should  we  have 
of  New  York  Christianity  if  we  judged  it  by  the  few 
morning  worshipers  at  Lenten  services ! " 

"  Yes,  indeed, "  she  said.    "  I  am  often  sorry  for  our  rector 

—  he  is  so  earnest,  and  so  few  care  to  come;  and  yet  he 
told  us  in  his  sermon,  last  Sunday,  that  these  Lenten  ser 
vices  were  an  act  of  union  with  our  Saviour's  self-denials 
and  sufferings." 

"Well,  Miss  Van  Arsdel,"  said  I,  "I  doubt  not  there 
are  hundreds  of  thousands  in  this  city  who  do  really,  in 
spirit,  unite  with  the  Saviour  in  self-denials  and  sufferings, 
daily,  who  do  not  express  it  in  this  form.  If  all  who 


I  DISCOVER   THE   BEAUTIES   OF  FRIENDSHIP        239 

really  love  the  Saviour,  and  are  living  in  his  spirit,  should 
make  a  point  of  early  morning  service  in  Lent,  I  verily 
believe  the  churches  would  be  crowded  to  overflowing." 

"You  do  really  think  so?" 

"I  do.  In  spite  of  all  that  appears,  I  think  ours  is 
really,  at  heart,  a  religious  age  —  it  is  only  that  we  do  not 
agree  in  the  same  external  forms  of  expression." 

"  But  how  beautiful !  oh,  how  beautiful  it  would  be  if 
we  could !  "  she  said.  "  Oh,  it  would  be  lovely  if  all  the 
good  and  true  could  see  each  other,  and  stand  side  by  side ! 
I  long  for  visible  unity  —  and  do  you  think,  Mr.  Hender 
son,  we  could  unite  in  more  beautiful  forms  than  ours  1 " 

"No;  I  do  not,"  said  I;  "for  me,  for  you,  for  many 
like  us,  these  are  the  true  forms,  and  the  best;  but  we 
must  remember  that  others  have  just  as  sacred  associations, 
and  are  as  dearly  attached  to  other  modes  of  worship  as 
we  to  these." 

"  Then  you  really  do  prefer  them  yourself  1 " 

"  Well,  Miss  Van  Arsdel,  I  unite  with  the  Church  of  my 
father  and  mother,  because  I  was  brought  up  in  it;  yet  if 
I  were  to  choose  another,  it  would  be  yours." 

She  looked  pleased,  and  I  added,  "It  seems  to  me  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  things  about  it  is  a  daily  service." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "and  it  is  pleasant  to  have  churches 
where  you  feel  that  worship  is  daily  offered  whether  peo 
ple  attend  or  not.  There  was  something  sacred  and  beau 
tiful  about  the  church  of  St.  Peter's  in  Rome —  to  think 
that  at  every  hour  of  day  or  night  worship  was  going  on  in 
it.  I  used  to  like  to  think  of  it  when  I  awoke  nights  — 
that  they  were  praying  and  adoring  there  —  in  this  cold, 
dreary  world;  it  seems  as  if  it  was  like  a  Father's  house, 
always  light,  and  warm,  and  open." 

"There  is  a  beauty  and  use  in  all  these  forms  and  im 
ages,"  I  said;  "and  I  think  if  we  are  wise,  we  may  take 
comfort  in  them  all,  without  being  enslaved  by  any." 


240  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Here  our  interview  closed,  as  with  a  graceful  salutation 
she  left  me  at  the  door  of  her  house. 

The  smile  she  gave  me  was  so  bright  and  heart- warm, 
that  it  lightened  all  my  work  through  the  day;  a  subtle 
sense  of  a  new  and  charming  companionship  began  to  shed 
itself  through  all  my  labors,  and,  unconsciously  and  un- 
watched,  commenced  that  process  of  double  thought  which 
made  everything  I  read  or  wrote  suggest  something  I 
wanted  to  say  to  her.  The  reader  will  not,  therefore, 
wonder  that  I  proved  my  sense  of  the  beauty  of  a  daily 
morning  service  by  going  with  great  regularity  after  this, 
and  as  regularly  walking  home  with  my  enchanting  com 
panion. 

I  was  innocently  surprised  to  find  how  interesting  the 
morning  scenery  in  prosaic  old  New  York  had  become.  It 
was  April,  and  the  buds  in  the  Park  were  swelling,  and 
the  green  grass  springing  in  the  cracks  of  the  pavement, 
and  little  sparrows  twittered  and  nestled  in  the  ivy  that 
embowered  the  church  —  and  all  these  things  had  a  strange, 
new  charm  for  me.  I  told  myself,  every  day,  that  I  was 
not  in  love  with  Eva  Van  Arsdel,  or  going  to  be;  I  took 
myself  to  witness  that  all  our  conversation  was  on  the  most 
correct  and  dispassionate  subjects,  and  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  inclining  to  any  vanity  of  that  nature.  Since  then, 
I  have  learned  that  Eva  was  the  kind  of  woman  with 
whom  it  made  no  difference  wrhat  the  subject-matter  of 
conversation  was.  It  might  be  religion,  or  politics,  or 
conic  sections,  but  the  animus  of  it  was  sure  to  be  the 
same  thing.  It  was  her  vital  magnetism  that  gave  the 
interest.  It  was,  in  fact,  hardly  any  matter  what  we 
talked  about,  or  whether  we  talked  at  all,  it  was  the  charm 
of  being  together  that  made  these  morning  interviews  so 
delightful;  though  I  believe  we  discussed  nearly  every 
thing  under  the  sun  with  the  most  astonishing  unanimity 
of  sentiment. 


I  DISCOVER   THE   BEAUTIES   OF  FRIENDSHIP        241 

I  was  very  careful  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  my  increas 
ing  intimacy  from  Jim  Fellows.  Early  rising  was  not  his 
forte,  and  I,  very  improperly,  congratulated  myself  on  the 
fewness  of  the  worshipers  at  early  service.  By  and  by,  I 
grew  so  conscious  that  I  got  a  way  of  stealing  out  at  an 
opposite  door,  appearing  to  walk  off  another  way,  and  join 
ing  Eva  at  the  next  corner  —  lest  haply  my  invariable  con 
stancy  should  attract  attention.  She  noticed  all  these 
things  with  a  droll,  amused,  little  half-conscious  look. 
True  daughter  of  Eve  as  she  was,  she  had  probably  seen 
many  a  shy  fish  before,  swimming  around  her  golden  net 
as  artlessly  as  I  was  doing. 

I  soon  became  her  obedient  slave  and  servant,  interpret 
ing  all  her  motions  and  intimations  with  humble  assiduity. 
Of  course,  I  presented  myself  duly  with  Jim  in  the  Wednes 
day  evening  receptions,  where,  as  the  rooms  were  filled 
with  other  company,  we  already  began  to  practice  an  invol 
untary  hypocrisy,  keeping  up  our  friendly  intimacy  by  that 
kind  of  intuitive  and  undemonstrative  communication  natu 
ral  to  those  who  know  each  other  by  sympathy,  and  learn 
to  understand  each  other  without  words. 

I  was  a  great  deal  in  Ida's  studio,  probably  much  to  the 
satisfaction  of  Aunt  Maria  and  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  —  while 
Eva  glanced  and  twinkled  in  and  out  like  a  firefly  in  a 
meadow,  taking  my  heart  with  her  as  she  came  and  went, 
yet  awing  me  with  a  dutiful  reticence,  lest  "people  should 
talk." 

Ida  was  one  of  those  calm,  quiet,  essentially  self -poised 
women,  with  whom  it  would  be  quite  possible  for  a  man  to 
have  a  very  intimate  friendship  without  its  toning  off  into 
anything  warm,  either  on  her  part  or  on  his.  Everything 
with  her  was  so  positive  and  definite,  that  there  was  no 
possibility  of  going  over  the  limits.  I  think  that  she 
really  had  a  very  warm  esteem  for  me;  but  she  looked  at 
me  and  judged  me  solely  in  relation  to  Eva,  and  with  a 


242  MY  WIFE   AND  I 

quiet  persistency  favored  the  intimacy  that  she  saw  grow 
ing  between  us.  Her  plans  of  life  were  laid  far  ahead; 
she  was  wedded  to  a  purpose  which  she  would  not  have 
renounced  for  any  man  on  earth;  but  Eva  was  the  very 
apple  of  her  eye,  and  I  think  she  had  her  own  plans  as 
to  the  settling  of  her  life's  destiny;  in  short,  Ida  was 
from  the  start  the  best  friend  I  could  have. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

I    AM    INTRODUCED    TO    THE    ILLUMIXATI 

A  YOUNG  man  who  commences  life  as  a  reformer,  and  a 
leader  in  the  party  of  progress,  while  saying  the  best  and 
most  reasonable  things  in  the  world,  and  advocating  Avhat 
appear  to  him  the  most  needed  reforms,  often  finds  himself, 
in  consequence,  in  the  condition  of  one  who  has  pulled 
the  string  of  a  very  large  shower-bath.  He  wanted  cold 
water,  and  he  gets  a  deal  more  than  he  bargained  for;  in 
fact,  often  catches  his  breath,  and  wonders  when  this  sort 
of  thing  is  going  to  stop.  My  articles  on  the  Modern 
Woman,  in  the  "Milky  Way,"  had  brought  me  into  no 
tice  in  certain  enthusiastic  circles,  and  I  soon  found  myself 
deluged  with  letters,  appeals,  pamphlets,  newspapers,  all 
calling  for  the  most  urgent  and  immediate  attention,  and 
all  charging  me  on  my  allegiance  to  "the  cause,"  immedi 
ately,  and  without  loss  of  time,  to  write  articles  for  said 
papers  gratuitously,  to  circulate  said  pamphlets,  to  give 
favorable  notices  of  said  books,  and  instantly  to  find  lucra 
tive  situations  for  hosts  of  distressed  women  who  were  tired 
of  the  humdrum  treadmill  of  home-life,  and  who  wished 
to  have  situations  provided  where  there  was  no  drudgery 
and  no  labor,  but  very  liberal  compensation.  The  whole 
large  army  of  the  incapables,  —  the  blind,  the  halt,  the 
lame,  the  weary,  and  the  forlorn,  —  all  seemed  inclined  to 
choose  me  as  their  captain,  and  to  train  under  my  banner. 
Because  I  had  got  into  a  subordinate  position  on  the 
"Great  Democracy,"  they  seemed  to  consider  that  it  was 
my  immediate  business  to  make  the  "  Great  Democracy  " 
serve  their  wants,  or  to  perish  in  the  attempt. 


244  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

My  friend,  Ida  Van  Arsdel,  was  a  serious,  large-minded, 
large-brained  woman,  who  had  laid  a  deep  and  comprehen 
sive  plan  of  life,  and  was  adhering  to  it  with  a  patient  and 
silent  perseverance.  Still,  she  had  no  sympathy  in  that 
class  of  society  where  her  lot  was  cast.  Her  mother  and 
her  Aunt  Maria  were  women  who  lived  and  breathed 
merely  in  the  opinions  of  their  set  and  circle,  and  were  as 
incapable  of  considering  any  higher  ideal  of  life,  or  any 
unworldly  purpose,  as  two  canary-birds.  Mr.  Van  Arsdel, 
a  quiet,  silent  man,  possessed  a  vein  of  good  sense  which 
led  him  to  appreciate  his  eldest  daughter  at  her  real  worth ; 
and  he  was  not  insensible  to  the  pleasure  of  having  one 
feminine  companion  who,  as  he  phrased  it,  "understood 
business,"  and  with  whom  he  could  talk  and  advise  under- 
standingly.  But  even  he  had  no  sympathy  with  those 
larger  views  of  the  wants  and  needs  of  womanhood,  in 
view  of  which  Ida  was  acting.  It  followed  very  naturally 
that  as  Ida  got  no  sympathy  in  her  own  circle,  she  was 
led  to  seek  it  in  the  widening  sphere  of  modern  reformers 
—  a  circle  in  wrhich  so  much  that  is  fine  and  excellent  and 
practical  is  inevitably  mixed  with  a  great  deal  that  is  crude 
and  excessive. 

At  her  request  I  accompanied  her  and  Eva  one  evening 
to  a  sort  of  New  Dispensation  salon,  which  was  held  weekly 
at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Stella  Cerulean.  Mrs.  Stella  Ceru 
lean  was  a  brilliant  woman  —  beautiful  in  person,  full  of 
genius,  full  of  enthusiasm,  full  of  self-confidence,  the  most 
charming  of  talkers,  and  the  most  fascinating  of  women. 
Her  career  from  early  life  had  been  one  of  those  dazzling 
successes  which  always  fall  to  the  lot  of  beauty,  seconded 
by  a  certain  amount  of  tact  and  genius.  Of  both  these 
gifts  Mrs.  Cerulean  had  just  enough  to  bewilder  the  head 
of  any  gentleman  who  made  her  acquaintance.  She  had 
in  her  girlhood  made  the  tour  of  Europe,  shone  as  a  star  in 
the  courts  of  France  and  Russia,  and  might  be  excused  for 


I   AM   INTRODUCED    TO    THE   ILLUMIXATI  245 

a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  complacency  in  her  successes. 
In  common  with  handsome  women  generally,  she  had,  dur 
ing  the  greater  part  of  her  life,  never  heard  anything  but 
flattery  from  gentlemen,  and  it  always  agreed  with  her 
remarkably  well.  But  Mrs.  Cerulean  was  one  of  those 
women  with  just  intellect  and  genius  enough  to  render 
her  impatient  of  the  mere  commonplace  triumphs  of  beauty. 
She  felt  the  intoxicating  power  of  the  personal  influence 
which  she  possessed,  and  aspired  to  reign  in  the  region  of 
the  mind  as  well  as  to  charm  the  senses.  She  felt  herself 
called  to  the  modern  work  of  society  regeneration,  and 
went  into  it  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  her  nature,  and 
with  all  that  certainty  of  success  which  comes  from  an  utter 
want  of  practical  experience.  Problems  which  old  states 
men  contemplated  with  perplexity,  which  had  been  the 
despair  of  ages,  she  took  up  with  a  cheerful  alacrity. 

She  had  one  simple  remedy  for  the  reconstruction  of 
society  about  whose  immediate  application  she  saw  not  the 
slightest  difficulty.  It  was  simply  and  only  to  be  done  by 
giving  the  affairs  of  the  world  into  the  hands  of  women, 
forthwith.  Those  who  only  claim  equality  for  women 
were,  in  Mrs.  Cerulean' s  view,  far  behind  the  age.  Wo 
man  was  the  superior  sex.  Had  not  every  gentleman  of 
her  acquaintance,  since  she  could  remember,  told  her  this 
with  regard  to  herself  ?  Had  they  not  always  told  her  that 
she  could  know  everything  without  study,  simply  by  the 
divine  intuitions  of  womanhood;  that  she  could  flash  to 
conclusions  without  reasoning,  simply  by  the  brilliancy  of 
her  eyes;  that  her  purity  was  incorruptible  in  its  very 
nature;  that  all  her  impulses  were  heavenly  and  God- 
given  1  Naturally  enough,  then,  it  was  her  deduction  that 
all  that  was  wanting  to  heal  the  woes  and  wants  of  society 
was  that  she  and  other  such  inspired  beings  should  imme 
diately  take  to  themselves  their  power,  and  reign. 

Such  is  a  general  sketch  of  Mrs.  Cerulean 's  view  of  the 


246  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

proper  method  of  introducing  the  millennium.  Meanwhile, 
she  did  her  part  in  it  by  holding  salons  once  a  week,  in 
which  people  entertaining  similar  views  met  for  the  pur 
pose,  apparently,  of  a  general  generation  of  gas,  without 
any  particular  agreement  as  to  the  method  in  which  it 
should  be  applied.  This  was  the  company  of  people  to 
whom  Eva  rather  pathetically  alluded  in  one  of  her  conver 
sations,  once,  as  such  nice  people,  who  were  so  very  puz 
zling  to  her,  because  no  two  of  them  ever  seemed  to  think 
alike  on  any  subject,  and  all  agreed  in  opening  their  eyes 
very  wide  in  astonishment  if  anybody  quoted  the  Bible  to 
them  as  an  authority  in  faith  and  practice. 

Ida  was  much  courted  and  petted  by  this  circle.  And 
sensible,  good  girl  as  she  was,  she  was  not  wholly  without 
pleasure  in  the  admiration  they  showed  for  her.  Then, 
again,  there  were,  every  evening,  ventilated  in  this  com 
pany  quantities  of  the  most  splendid  and  heroic  ideas 
possible  to  human  beings.  The  whole  set  seemed  to  be 
inspired  with  the  spirit  of  martyrdom,  without  any  very 
precise  idea  of  how  to  get  martyred  effectually.  It  was 
only  agreed  that  everything  in  the  present  state  of  society 
was  wrong,  and  was  to  be  pulled  down  forthwith.  But  as 
to  what  was  to  come  after  this  demolition,  there  were  as 
many  opinions  in  the  circle  as  there  were  persons,  and  all 
held  with  a  wonderful  degree  of  tenacity.  A  portion  of 
them  were  of  opinion  that  a  new  dispensation  fresh  from 
the  heavenly  realms  was  being  inaugurated  by  means  of 
spiritualistic  communications  daily  and  hourly  conveyed  to 
privileged  individuals.  It  was,  however,  unfortunate  that 
these  communications  were,  very  many  of  them,  in  point- 
blank  opposition  to  each  other;  so  that  the  introduction  of 
revelations  from  the  invisible  world  seemed  only  likely  to 
make  the  confusion  worse  confounded.  Then  again,  as  to 
all  the  existing  relations  of  life,  there  was  the  same  charm 
ing  variety  of  opinion.  But  one  thing  seemed  to  be  pretty 


I  AM   INTRODUCED   TO   THE   ILLUMINATI  247 

generally  conceded  among  the  whole  circle,  that  in  the 
good  time  coming  nobody  was  ever  to  do  anything  that  he 
did  not  want  to  do,  or  feel  at  the  moment  just  like  doing. 
The  great  object  of  existence  apparently  was  to  get  rid  of 
everything  that  was  disagreeable  and  painful.  Thus,  quite 
a  party  of  them  maintained  that  all  marriage  relations  ought 
to  drop  from  the  moment  that  either  party  ceased  to  take 
pleasure  in  them,  without  any  regard  to  the  interest  of  the 
other  party  or  the  children;  because  the  fundamental  law 
of  existence  was  happiness  —  and  nothing  could  make  peo 
ple  happy  but  liberty  to  do  just  as  they  had  a  mind  to. 

I  must  confess  that  I  found  my  evening  at  Mrs.  Ceru 
lean 's  salon  a  very  agreeable  one;  the  conversation  of  thor 
oughly  emancipated  people  has  a  sparkling  variety  to  it 
which  is  exactly  the  thing  to  give  one  a  lively,  pleasant 
evening.  Everybody  was  full  of  enthusiasm,  and  in  the 
very  best  of  spirits.  And  there  appeared  to  be  nothing 
that  anybody  was  afraid  to  say.  Nobody  was  startled  by 
anything.  There  was  not  a  question,  as  it  appeared,  that 
had  been  agitated  since  the  creation  of  the  world  that  was 
not  still  open  to  discussion. 

As  we  were  walking  home  after  spending  an  evening, 
Ida  asked  me :  — 

"Now,  Mr.  Henderson,  what  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"Well,  Miss  Ida,"  said  I,  "after  all,  I'm  a  believer  in 
the  old-fashioned  Bible." 

"What,  really,  Mr.  Henderson?" 

"Really  and  squarely,  Miss  Ida.  And  never  more  so 
than  when  I  associate  with  very  clever  people  who  have 
given  it  up.  There  is,  to  my  mind,  a  want  of  com 
mon  sense  about  all  theories  of  life  that  are  not  built  on 
that." 

"Well,"  said  Ida,  "I  have  long  since  made  up  my  mind, 
for  my  own  part,  that  if  the  cause  of  woman  is  to  be  ad 
vanced  in  this  world,  it  is  not  so  much  by  meeting  together 


248  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

and  talking  about  it,  as  by  each  individual  woman  propos 
ing  to  herself  some  good  work  for  the  sex,  and  setting 
about  it  patiently,  and  doing  it  quietly.  That  is  rather 
my  idea;  at  the  same  time,  I  like  to  hear  these  people 
talk,  and  they  certainly  are  a  great  contrast  to  the  vapid 
people  that  are  called  good  society.  There  is  a  freshness 
and  earnestness  of  mind  about  some  of  them  that  is  really 
very  interesting;  and  I  get  a  great  many  new  ideas." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Eva,  "to  be  sure  I  have  been  a 
sad  idler,  but  if  I  were  going  to  devote  myself  to  any  work 
for  women,  it  should  be  in  the  Church,  and  under  the 
guidance  of  the  Church.  I  am  sure  there  is  something  we 
can  do  there.  And  then,  one  's  sure  of  not  running  into 
all  sorts  of  vagaries." 

"Now,"  said  Ida,  "all  I  want  is  that  women  should  do 
something ;  that  the  lives  of  girls,  from  the  time  they 
leave  school  till  the  time  they  are  married,  should  not  be 
such  a  perfect  waste  as  they  now  are.  I  do  not  profess  to 
be  certain  about  any  of  these  theories  that  I  hear;  but  one 
thing  I  do  know :  we  women  will  bear  being  made  a  great 
deal  more  self-sustaining  and  self-supporting  than  we  have 
been.  We  can  be  more  efficient  in  the  world,  and  we 
ought  to  be.  I  have  chosen  my  way,  and  mean  to  keep  to 
it.  And  my  idea  is  that  a  woman  who  really  does  accom 
plish  a  life-work  is  just  like  one  that  cuts  the  first  path 
through  a  wood.  She  makes  a  way  where  others  can 
walk." 

"That's  you,  Ida,"  said  Eva;  "but  I  am  not  strong 
enough  to  cut  first  paths." 

I  felt  a  little  nervous  flutter  of  her  hand  on  my  arm  as 
she  said  this.  It  was  in  the  dark,  and  involuntarily,  I 
suppose,  my  hand  went  upon  hers,  and  before  I  thought  of 
it  I  felt  the  little  warm  thing  in  my  own  as  if  it  had  been 
a  young  bird.  It  was  one  of  those  things  that  people  some 
times  do  before  they  know  it.  But  I  noticed  that  she  did 


I  AM   INTRODUCED   TO   THE   ILLUMIXATI          249 

not  withdraw  her  hand,  and  so  I  held  it,  querying  in  my 
own  mind  whether  this  little  arrangement  was  one  of  the 
privileges  of  friendship.  Before  I  quite  resolved  this  ques 
tion  we  parted  at  the  house  door. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

I    RECEIVE    A    MORAL    SHOWER-BATH 

A  DAY  or  two  after,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my  room,  busy 
writing,  I  heard  a  light  footstep  on  the  stairs,  and  a  voice 
saying,  "Oh  yes!  this  is  Mr.  Henderson's  room  —  thank 
you,"  and  the  next  moment  a  jaunty,  dashing  young  wo 
man,  with  bold  blue  eyes  and  curling  brown  hair,  with  a 
little  wicked-looking  cap  with  nodding  cock's-feathers  set 
askew  on  her  head,  came  marching  up  and  seated  herself  at 
my  writing-table.  I  gazed  in  blank  amazement.  The  ap 
parition  burst  out  laughing,  and,  seizing  me  frankly  by  the 
hand,  said :  — 

"Look  here,  Hal!  don't  you  know  me?  Well,  my  dear 
fellow,  if  you  don't,  it's  time  you  did!  I  read  your  last 
'thingumajig'  in  the  'Milky  Way,'  and  came  round  to 
make  your  acquaintance." 

I  gazed  in  dumb  amazement  while  she  went  on :  — 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  have  come  to  enlighten  you,"  —  and 
as  she  said  this  she  drew  somewhat  near  to  me,  and  laid 
her  arm  confidingly  on  my  shoulder,  and  looked  coaxingly 
in  my  face.  The  look  of  amazement  which  I  gave,  under 
these  circumstances,  seemed  to  cause  her  great  amuse 
ment. 

"Ha!  ha!  "  she  said,  "didn't  I  tell  'em  so?  You  ain't 
half  out  of  the  shell  yet.  You  ain't  really  hatched.  You 
go  for  the  emancipation  of  woman;  but  bless  you,  boy,  you 
haven't  the  least  idea  what  it  means  —  not  a  bit  of  it, 
sonny,  have  you  now  ?  Confess ! "  she  said,  stroking  my 
shoulder  caressingly. 


I   RECEIVE   A   MORAL   SHOWER-BATH  251 

"Really,  madam  —  I  confess,"  I  said  hesitatingly,  "I 
have  n't  the  honor  "  — 

"Not  the  honor  of  my  acquaintance,  you  was  going  to 
say;  well,  that 's  exactly  what  you  're  getting  now.  I  read 
your  piece  in  the  '  Milky  Way, '  and,  said  I,  that  boy  's  in 
heathen  darkness  yet,  and  I  'm  going  round  to  enlighten 
him.  You  mean  well,  Hal!  but  this  is  a  great  subject. 
You  haven't  seen  through  it.  Lord  bless  you,  child!  you 
ain't  a  woman,  and  I  am  —  that 's  just  the  difference." 

Now,  I  ask  any  of  my  readers,  what  is  a  modest  young 
man,  in  this  nineteenth  century,  —  having  been  brought  up 
to  adore  and  reverence  woman  as  a  goddess,  —  to  do,  when 
he  finds  himself  vis-a-vis  with  her  in  such  embarrassing 
relations  as  mine  were  becoming  ?  I  had  heard  before  of 
Miss  Audacia  Dangyereyes  as  a  somewhat  noted  character 
in  New  York  circles,  but  did  not  expect  to  be  brought  so 
unceremoniously,  and  without  the  least  preparation  of  mind, 
into  such  very  intimate  relations  with  her. 

"Now,  look  here,  bub! "  she  said,  "I  'm  just  a-going  to 
prove  to  you,  in  five  minutes,  that  you  've  been  writing 
about  what  you  don't  know  anything  about.  You  've  been 
asserting,  in  your  blind  way,  the  rights  of  woman  to  lib 
erty  and  equality;  the  rights  of  women,  in  short,  to  do 
anything  that  men  do.  Well,  here  comes  a  woman  to  your 
room  who  takes  her  rights,  practically,  and  does  just  what 
a  man  would  do.  I  claim  my  right  to  smoke  if  I  please, 
and  to  drink  if  I  please;  and  to  come  up  into  your  room 
and  make  you  a  call,  and  have  a  good  time  with  you,  if  I 
please,  and  tell  you  that  I  like  your  looks,  as  I  do.  Fur 
thermore,  to  invite  you  to  come  and  call  on  me  at  my  room. 
Here  's  my  card.  You  may  call  me  'Dacia,  if  you  like  — 
I  don't  go  on  ceremony.  Come  round  and  take  a  smoke 
with  me  this  evening,  won't  you1?  I've  got  the  nicest 
little  chamber  that  ever  you  saw.  What  rent  do  you  pay 
for  yours  1  Say,  will  you  come  round  ? " 


252  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"  Indeed  —  thank  you,  miss  "  — 

"Call  me  'Dacia  for  short.  I  don't  stand  on  ceremony. 
Just  look  on  me  as  another  fellow.  And  now  confess  that 
you  've  been  tied  and  fettered  by  those  vapid  convention 
alities  which  bind  down  women  till  there  is  no  strength  in 
'em.  You  visit  in  those  false,  artificial  circles,  where 
women  are  slaves,  kept  like  canary-birds  in  gilded  cages. 
And  you  are  afraid  of  your  own  principles  when  you  see 
them  carried  out  in  a  real  free  woman.  Now,  I  'm  a  wo 
man  that  not  only  dares  say,  but  I  dare  do.  Why  has  n't 
a  woman  as  much  a  right  to  go  round  and  make  herself 
agreeable  to  men,  as  to  sit  still  at  home  and  wait  for  men 
to  come  and  make  themselves  agreeable  to  her?  I  know 
you  don't  like  this,  I  can  see  you  don't,  but  it 's  only  be 
cause  you  are  a  slave  to  old  prejudices.  But  I  'm  going  to 
make  you  like  me  in  spite  of  yourself.  Come,  now,  be 
consistent  with  your  principles;  allow  me  my  equality  as  a 
woman,  a  human  being.'' 

I  was  in  such  a  state  of  blank  amazement  by  this  time  as 
seemed  to  deprive  me  of  all  power  of  self-possession.  At 
this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Jim  Fellows  appeared. 
A  most  ludicrous  grimace  passed  over  his  face  as  he  saw 
the  position,  and  he  cut  a  silent  pirouette  in  the  air,  behind 
her.  She  turned  her  head,  and  he  advanced. 

"Fairest  of  the  sex!  (with  some  slight  exceptions)  —  to 
what  happy  accident  are  we  to  attribute  this  meeting  1 " 

"Hallo,  Jim!  is  this  you?"  she  replied. 

"Oh,  certainly,  it  'sme,"  said  Jim,  seating  himself  famil 
iarly.  "How  is  the  brightest  star  of  womanhood  —  the 
Northern  Light;  the  Aurora  Borealis;  the  fairest  of  the 
fair?  Bless  its  little  heart,  has  it  got  its  rights  yet?  Did 
it  want  to  drink  and  smoke  ?  Come  along  with  Jim,  now, 
and  let 's  have  a  social  cocktail." 

"Keep  your  distance,  sir,"  said  she,  giving  him  a  slight 
box  on  his  ear.  "I  prefer  to  do  my  own  fonrtinr.  T  ^PVO 


I  RECEIVE   A   MORAL   SHOWER-BATH  253 

been  trying  to  show  your  friend  here  how  little  he  knows 
of  the  true  equality  of  women,  and  of  the  good  time  com 
ing,  when  we  shall  have  our  rights,  and  do  just  as  we  darn 
please,  as  you  do.  I  '11  bet  now  there  ain't  one  of  those 
Van  Arsdel  girls  that  would  dare  to  do  as  I  'm  doing.  But 
we  're  opening  the  way,  sir,  we  're  opening  the  way.  The 
time  will  come  when  all  women  will  be  just  as  free  to  life, 
liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  as  men." 

"Good  heavens! "  said  I  under  my  breath. 

"My  beloved  Audacia,"  said  Jim,  "allow  me  to  remark 
one  little  thing,  and  that  is,  that  men  also  must  be  left  free 
to  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  and  also,  as  the  Scripture  says, 
new  wine  must  not  be  put  into  old  bottles.  Now,  my 
friend  Hal  —  begging  his  pardon  —  is  an  old  bottle,  and  I 
think  you  have  already  put  as  much  new  wine  into  him  as 
his  constitution  will  bear.  And  as  he  and  I  both  have  got 
to  make  our  living  by  scratching,  and  tempus  fuyit,  and 
we  've.got  articles  to  write,  and  there  is  always,  so  to  speak, 
the  Devil  after  us  folks  that  write  for  the  press,  may  I 
humbly  request  that  you  will  withdraw  the  confusing  light 
of  your  bright  eyes  from  us  for  the  present,  and,  in  short, 
take  your  divine  self  somewhere  else  1  " 

As  Jim  spoke  these  words,  he  passed  his  arm  round  Miss 
Audacia' s  waist,  and  drew  her  to  the  door  of  the  apartment, 
which  he  threw  open,  and  handed  her  out,  bowing  with 
great  ceremony. 

"Stop!"  she  cried,  "I  ain't  going  to  be  put  out  that 
way.  I  have  n't  done  what  I  came  for.  You  both  of  you 
have  got  to  subscribe  for  my  paper,  the  '  Emancipated 
Woman. '  » 

"Couldn't  do  it,  divinest  charmer, "  said  Jim,  "couldn't 
do  it;  too  poor;  mill  runs  low;  no  water;  modest  merit 
not  rewarded.  Wait  till  my  ship  comes  in,  and  I  '11  sub 
scribe  for  anything  you  like." 

"Well,  now,  you  don't  get  rid  of  rne  that  way.      I  tell 


254  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

you  I  came  in  to  get  a  subscription,  and  I  am  going  to  stay 
till  I  get  one,"  said  Miss  Audacia.  "Come,  Hal,"  she 
said,  crossing  once  more  to  me,  and  sitting  down  by  me 
and  taking  my  hand,  "write  your  name  there,  there's  a 
good  fellow." 

I  wrote  my  name  in  desperation,  while  Jim  stood  by, 
laughing. 

"Jim,"  I  said,  "come,  put  yours  down  quick,  and  let's 
have  it  over." 

"Well,  now,"  said  she,  "fork  out  the  stamps  —  five 
dollars  each." 

We  both  obeyed  mechanically. 

"Well,  well,"  said  she  good-naturedly,  "that'll  do  for 
this  time,  good-morning, "  and  she  vanished  from  the  apart 
ment  with  a  jaunty  toss  of  the  head  and  a  nod  of  the  cock's- 
feathers  in  her  hat. 

Jim  closed  the  door  smartly  after  her. 

"Mercy  upon  us!  Jim,"  said  I,  "who  and  what  is  this 
creature  ? " 

"Oh,  one  of  the  harbingers  of  the  new  millennium," 
said  Jim.  "Won't  it  be  jolly  when  all  the  girls  are  like 
her?  But  we  shall  have  to  keep  our  doors  locked  then." 

"But,"  said  I,  "is  it  possible,  Jim,  that  this  is  a  respec 
table  woman  1  " 

"She's  precisely  what  you  see,"  said  Jim;  "whether 
that 's  respectable  is  a  matter  of  opinion.  There  's  a  wo 
man  that 's  undertaken,  in  good  faith,  to  run  and  jostle  in 
all  the  ways  that  men  run  in.  Her  principle  is,  that  what 
ever  a  young  fellow  in  New  York  could  do,  she  '11  do." 

"Good  heavens!  "  said  I,  "what  would  the  Van  Arsdels 
think  of  us,  if  they  should  know  that  she  had  been  in  our 
company  1  " 

"It's  lucky  that  they  don't  and  can't,"  said  Jim. 
"  But  you  see  what  you  get  for  belonging  to  the  New  Dis 
pensation.  " 


I   RECEIVE   A  MORAL   SHOWER-BATH  255 

"Boys,  what 's  all  this  fuss?"  said  Bolton,  coming  in 
at  this  moment. 

"Oh,  nothing,  only  'Dacia  Dangyereyes  has  been  here," 
said  Jim,  "and  poor  Hal  is  ready  to  faint  away  and  sink 
through  the  floor.  He  isn't  up  to  snuff  yet,  for  all  he 
writes  such  magnificent  articles  about  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "it  was  woman  as  woman  that  I  was 
speaking  of,  and  not  this  kind  of  creature.  If  I  believed 
that  granting  larger  liberty  and  wider  opportunities  was 
going  to  change  the  women  we  reverence  to  things  like 
these,  you  would  never  find  me  advocating  it." 

"Well,  my  dear  Hal,"  said  Bolton,  "be  comforted; 
you  're  not  the  first  reformer  that  has  had  to  cry  out,  '  De 
liver  me  from  my  friends. '  Always,  when  the  waters  of 
any  noble,  generous  enthusiasm  rise  and  overflow  their 
banks,  there  must  come  down  the  driftwood  —  the  wood, 
hay,  and  stubble.  Luther  had  more  trouble  with  the 
fanatics  of  his  day,  who  ran  his  principles  into  the  ground, 
as  they  say,  than  he  had  with  the  Pope  and  the  Emperor, 
both  together.  As  to  this  Miss  Audacia,  she  is  one  of  the 
phenomenal  creations  of  our  times;  this  time,  when  every 
kind  of  practical  experiment  in  life  has  got  to  be  tried,  and 
stand  or  fall  on  its  own  merits.  So  don't  be  ashamed  of 
having  spoken  the  truth  because  crazy  people  and  fools 
caricature  it.  It  is  true,  as  you  have  said,  that  women 
ought  to  be  allowed  a  freer,  stronger,  and  more  generous 
education  and  scope  for  their  faculties.  It  is  true  that  they 
ought,  everywhere,  to  have  equal  privileges  with  men;  and 
because  some  crack-brained  women  draw  false  inferences 
from  this,  it  is  none  the  less  true.  For  my  part,  I  always 
said  that  one  must  have  a  strong  conviction  for  a  cause,  if 
he  could  stand  the  things  its  friends  say  for  it,  or  read  a 
weekly  paper  devoted  to  it.  If  I  could  have  been  made  a 
pro-slavery  man,  it  would  have  been  by  reading  anti-slavery 


256  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

papers,  and  vice  versa.  I  had  to  keep  myself  on  a  good 
diet  of  pro-slavery  papers,  to  keep  my  zeal  up." 

"But,"  said  I  anxiously  to  Jim,  "do  you  suppose  that 
we  're  going  to  be  exposed  to  the  visits  of  this  young  wo 
man  ? " 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "as  you  've  subscribed  for  her  paper, 
perhaps  she  '11  let  us  alone  till  she  has  some  other  point  to 
carry. " 

"Subscribe!  "  said  I;  "I  did  it  from  compulsion,  to  get 
her  out  of  the  office;  I  didn't  think  the  situation  respect 
able;  and  yet  I  don't  want  her  paper,  and  I  don't  want  my 
name  on  her  subscription  list.  What  if  the  Van  Arsdels 
should  find  it  out?  People  are  apt  enough  to  think  that 
our  doctrines  lead  to  all  sorts  of  outre  consequences;  and  if 
Mrs.  Wouvermans,  their  Aunt  Maria,  should  once  get  hold 
of  this,  and  it  should  get  all  through  the  circle  in  which 
they  move,  how  disagreeable  it  would  be." 

"Oh,  never  fear,"  said  Jim;  "I  guess  we  can  manage  to 
keep  our  own  secrets ;  and  as  to  any  of  them  ever  knowing, 
or  seeing,  anything  about  that  paper,  it 's  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  Bless  you!  they  wouldn't  touch  it  with  a  pair  of 
tongs ! " 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

AUNT    MAKIA 

AUNT  MARIA  came  into  the  parlor  where  Eva  and  Alice 
were  chatting  over  their  embroidery.  A  glance  showed 
that  she  had  been  occupied  in  that  sensible  and  time-hon 
ored  method  of  keeping  up  the  social  virtues,  which  is 
called  making  calls.  She  was  all  plumed  and  rustling  in 
flowers  and  laces,  and  had  on  her  calling  manners.  She 
had  evidently  been  smiling  and  bowing  and  inquiring  after 
people's  health,  and  saying  pretty  and  obliging  things,  till 
the  very  soul  within  her  was  quite  dried  up  and  exhausted. 
For  it  must  be  admitted  that  to  be  obliged  to  remember 
and  inquire  for  every  uncle,  aunt,  and  grandmother,  every 
baby  and  young  master  and  miss,  in  a  circle  of  one's  three 
hundred  particular  friends,  is  an  exercise  of  Christian 
benevolence  very  fatiguing.  Aunt  Maria,  however,  always 
went  through  with  it  with  exhaustive  thoroughness,  so  that 
everybody  said,  What  a  kind-hearted,  pleasant  woman  that 
Mrs.  Wouvermans  is. 

"Well,  there!"  she  said,  throwing  herself  into  an  arm 
chair,  "I  've  nearly  cleared  my  list,  thank  Heaven!  I  think 
Lent  is  a  grand  good  season  to  get  these  matters  off  your 
mind.  You  know  Mr.  Selwyn  said  last  Sunday  that  it 
was  the  time  to  bring  ourselves  up  to  the  disagreeable 
duties." 

"How  many  have  you  made,  Aunty?  "  said  Eva. 

"Just  three  dozen,  my  dear.  You  see  I  chose  a  nice 
day  when  a  good  many  are  sure  to  be  out.  That  shortens 
matters  a  good  deal.  Well,  girls,  I  've  been  to  the  El- 


258  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

mores'.  You  ought  to  see  what  a  state  they  are  in!  In 
all  my  experience  I  never  saw  people  so  perfectly  tipped 
over  and  beside  themselves  with  delight.  I  'm  sure  if  I 
were  they  I  wouldn't  show  it  quite  so  plain." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Alice,  "they  are  quite  benignant  and 
patronizing  to  us  now." 

"Patronizing!  Well,  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Poll 
Elmore  and  her  airs!  You  would  have  thought  her  a 
duchess  from  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  and  no  less !  She 
was  so  very  sweet  and  engaging !  Dear  me,  she  patronized 
me  within  an  inch  of  my  life ;  and  '  How  are  your  dear 
girls  1 '  she  said.  '  All  the  world  is  expecting  to  hear  some 
news  of  Miss  Eva;  should  we  soon  have  an  opportunity  of 
returning  congratulations  ?  ' 

"Oh,  pshaw,  Aunt,"  said  Eva  uneasily,  "what  did  you 


"  Oh !  I  told  her  that  Eva  was  in  no  hurry,  that  she  was 
very  reticent  of  her  private  affairs,  and  did  not  think  it  in 
good  taste  to  proclaim  them.  '  Ah,  then,  there  really  is 
something  in  it, '  said  she.  '  I  was  telling  my  girls  per 
haps  after  all  it  is  mere  report ;  people  say  so  many  things. 
The  thing  was  reported  about  Maria, '  she  said,  *  long  be 
fore  there  was  any  truth  in  it; '  and  then  she  went  on  to 
tell  me  how  much  Maria  had  been  admired,  and  how  many 
offers  she  had  rejected,  and  among  other  things  she  said 
that  Mr.  Sydney  had  been  at  her  disposal,  —  only  she 
couldn't  fancy  him.  '  You  know,'  she  said  with  a  senti 
mental  air,  '  that  the  heart  is  all  in  such  cases. ' ' 

"How  perfectly  absurd  of  her,"  said  Eva. 

"I  know,"  said  Alice  eagerly,  " that  Wat  Sydney  doesn't 
like  Maria  Elmore.  She  was  perfectly  wild  after  him,  and 
used  to  behave  so  that  it  really  disgusted  him." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Eva,  "all  these  things  are  excessively 
disagreeable  to  me;  it  seems  to  me  where  such  matters  are 
handled  and  talked  about  and  bandied  about,  they  become 


AUNT   MARIA  259 

like  shop-worn  goods,  utterly  disgusting.  Who  wants  every 
fool  and  fop  and  every  gossip  who  has  nothing  better  to  do 
talking  over  what  ought  to  be  the  most  private  and  delicate 
affairs  of  one's  own  heart! " 

"Well,  dear,  you  can't  help  it  in  society.  Why,  every 
person  where  I  have  called  inquired  about  your  engage 
ment  to  Wat  Sydney.  You  see  you  can't  keep  a  thing  of 
this  sort  private.  Of  course  you  can't.  You  are  in  the 
world,  and  the  world  will  have  you  do  as  others  do.  Of 
course  I  didn't  announce  it,  because  I  have  no  authority; 
but  the  thing  is  just  as  much  out  as  if  I  had.  There  was 
old  Mrs.  Ellis,  dear  old  soul,  said  to  me,  '  Give  my  love 
to  dear  Eva,  and  tell  her  I  hope  she  '11  be  happy.  I  sup 
pose,  '  she  added,  '  I  may  send  congratulations,  though  it 
isn't  announced.'  'Oh,'  said  I,  'Eva  doesn't  like  to 
have  matters  of  this  sort  talked  about. ' ' 

"But  Aunty,"  said  Eva,  who  had  been  coloring  with 
vexation,  "this  is  all  gratuitous  —  you  are  all  engaging  and 
marrying  me  in  spite  of  my  screams,  as  appears.  I  am  not 
engaged  to  Mr.  Sydney,  and  never  expect  to  be;  he  is  gone 
off  on  a  long  Southern  tour,  and  I  hope  out  of  sight  will 
be  out  of  mind,  and  people  will  stop  talking." 

"  But,  my  dear  Eva,  really,  now,  you  ought  not  to  treat 
a  nice  man  like  him  in  that  way." 

"Treat  him  in  what  way?  "  said  Eva. 

"  Why,  keep  him  along  in  this  undecided  manner  with 
out  giving  him  a  definite  answer." 

"He  might  have  had  a  definite  answer  any  time  in  the 
last  three  months  if  he  had  asked  for  it.  It  is  n't  my  busi 
ness  to  speak  till  I  'm  spoken  to." 

"You  don't  mean,  Eva,  that  he  has  gone  off  without 
saying  anything  definite  —  bringing  matters  to  a  point  ?  " 

"I  do  mean  just  that,  Aunty,  and  what 's  more  I  'm  glad 
he  's  gone,  and  I  hope  before  he  comes  back  he  '11  see  some 
body  that  he  likes  better,  and  then  it  '11  be  all  off;  and, 


260  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

Aunty,  if  any  one  speaks  to  you  about  it  you  '11  oblige  me 
by  saying  decidedly  there  is  nothing  in  it." 

"Well,  I  sha'n't  say  there  never  has  been  anything  in 
it.  I  shall  say  you  refused  him." 

"  And  why  so  1  I  am  not  anxious  to  have  the  credit  of 
it,  and  besides  I  think  it  is  indelicate  when  a  man  has  paid 
a  lady  the  highest  possible  compliment  he  can  pay,  to 
make  a  public  parade  of  it.  It 's  sufficient  to  say  there  is 
nothing  in  it  and  never  will  be;  it's  nobody's  business 
how  it  happened." 

"Oh,  come,  Eva,  don't  say  there  never  will  be  any 
thing  in  it.  That  is  a  subject  on  which  girls  are  licensed 
to  change  their  minds." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Alice,  "I  only  wish  it  were  I. 
I  'd  have  him  in  a  minute.  Aunty,  did  you  see  that  nobby 
phaeton  he  was  driving  the  last  day  he  was  on  the  park; 
those  horses,  and  that  white  fur  lap-robe,  with  the  long 
pluffy  hair  like  silver?  I  must  say,  Eva,  I  think  you  are 
a  little  goose." 

"I've  no  objection  to  the  park  phaeton,  or  horses,  or 
lap-robe;  but  it  isn't  those  I  'm  to  marry,  you  see." 

"But,  Eva,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "if  you  wouldn't  fancy 
such  a  match  as  Wat  Sydney,  who  would  you?  he  is  a 
man  of  correct  and  temperate  habits,  and  that 's  more  than 
you  can  say  of  half  the  men." 

"But  a  woman  doesn't  necessarily  want  to  make  her 
most  intimate  and  personal  friend  of  a  man  merely  because 
he  doesn't  drink,"  said  Eva. 

"But  he  's  good  looking." 

"So  they  say,  but  not  to  me,  not  my  style.  In  short, 
Aunty,  I  don't  love  him,  and  never  should;  and  if  I  were 
tied  too  close  to  him  might  end  by  hating  him.  As  it  is, 
he  and  I  are  the  best  friends  possible.  I  hope  we  always 
shall  stay  so." 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  know  who  ever  will  suit  you, 
Eva,"  said  Aunt  Maria. 


AUNT   MARIA  261 

"Oh,  he  will  come  along,  Aunty,  never  fear!  I  shall 
know  him  when.  I  see  him,  and  I  dare  say  everybody  will 
wonder  what  in  the  world  possessed  me,  but  /  shall  be 
content.  I  know  exactly  what  I  want,  I  'm  like  the  old 
party  in  the  '  Ancient  Mariner. '  I  shall  know  when  I  see 
him  '  the  man  that  must  have  me, '  and  then  I  shall  '  hold 
him  with  my  glittering  eye. ' } 

"Well,  Eva,  you  must  remember  one  thing.  There  are 
not  many  men  able  to  keep  you  in  the  way  you  always 
have  lived." 

"Then,  when  the  right  one  comes  I  shall  live  as  he  is 
able  to  keep  me." 

"Go  to  housekeeping  in  three  rooms,  perhaps.  You 
look  like  it." 

"Yes;  and  do  my  own  cooking.  I'm  rather  fond  of 
cooking;  I  have  decided  genius  that  way  too.  Ask  Jane 
down  in  the  kitchen  if  I  don't  make  splendid  fritters. 
The  fact  is,  Aunty,  I  have  so  much  superfluous  activity 
and  energy  that  I  should  be  quite  thrown  away  on  a  rich 
man.  A  poor  country  rector,  very  devout,  with  dark  eyes 
like  Longfellow's  Kavanagh,  is  rather  my  ideal.  I  would 
get  up  his  surplices  myself,  and  make  him  such  lovely  fon- 
tals  and  altar  cloths !  Why  does  n't  somebody  of  that  sort 
come  after  me?  I'm  quite  impatient  to  have  a  sphere 
and  show  what  I  can  do." 

"Well,"  said  Alice,  "you  don't  catch  me  marrying  a 
poor  man.  Not  I.  No  home  missionaries,  nor  poor  rec 
tors,  nor  distressed  artists  need  apply  at  this  office." 

"Now,  girls,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "let  me  tell  you  it's 
all  very  pretty  at  your  time  of  life  to  dream  about  love  in 
a  cottage  and  all  that,  but  when  you  have  seen  all  of  life 
that  I  have,  you  will  know  the  worth  of  the  solid;  when 
one  has  been  used  to  a  certain  way  of  living,  for  example, 
one  can't  change;  and  if  you  married  the  angel  Gabriel 
without  money,  you  would  soon  repent  it." 


,262  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  "I'd  risk  it  if  Gabriel  would  have 
me,  and  I  'd  even  try  it  with  some  man  a  little  lower  than 
the  angels;  so  prepare  your  mind  to  endure  it,  Aunty,  for 
one  of  these  days  everybody  will  be  holding  up  their  hands 
and  saying,  'What,  Eva  Van  Arsdel  engaged  to  him! 
Why,  what  could  have  possessed  her?'  That's  just  the 
way  I  heard  Lottie  Simmons  talking  last  week  about  Belle 
St.  John's  engagement.  She  is  going  to  marry  a  college 
professor  in  New  Haven  on  one  of  those  very  homoeopathic 
doses  of  salary  that  people  give  to  really  fine  men  that 
have  talent  and  education,  and  she  's  just  as  happy  as  she 
can  be  about  it,  and  the  girls  are  all  scraping  their  throats, 
'  oh-ing  and  ah-ing  '  and  wondering  what  coul,d  have  led 
her  to  it.  No  engagement  ring  to  show !  private  wedding ! 
and  just  going  off  together  up  to  his  mother's  in  Vermont 
instead  of  making  the  bridal  tour  of  all  the  watering-places ! 
It  must  be  so  charming,  you  see,  to  be  exhibited  as  a  new 
bride,  along  with  all  the  other  new  brides  at  Trenton  and 
Niagara  and  the  White  Mountains,  so  that  everybody  may 
have  a  chance  to  compare  your  finery  with  everybody 
else's,  also  to  see  how  you  conduct  yourself  in  new  circum 
stances.  For  my  part,  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  my  poor  rec 
tor  can't  afford  it." 

"By  the  bye,  speaking  of  that  girl,"  said  Aunt  Maria, 
"what  are  you  going  to  wear  to  the  wedding?  It's  quite 
time  you  were  attending  to  that.  I  called  in  at  Tulle- 
gig's,  and  of  course  she  was  all  in  a  whirl,  but  I  put  in 
for  you.  '  Now,  Madame, '  said  I,  '  you  must  leave  a 
place  in  your  mind  for  my  girls, '  and  of  course  she  went 
on  with  her  usual  French  rodomontade,  but  I  assure  you 
you  '11  have  to  look  after  her.  Tullegig  has  no  conscience, 
and  will  put  you  off  with  anything  she  can  make  you  take, 
unless  you  give  your  mind  to  it  and  follow  her  up." 

"Well,  I'm  sure,  Aunty,  I  don't  feel  equal  to  getting 
a  new  dress  out  of  Tullegig,"  said  Eva,  with  a  sigh,  "and 


AUNT  MARIA  263 

I  have  dresses  enough,  any  one  of  which  will  do.  I  am 
llasee  with  dresses,  and  I  think  weddings  are  a  drug.  If 
there  's  anything  that  I  think  downright  vulgar  and  dis 
agreeable,  it's  this  style  of  blaring,  flaring,  noisy,  crowded, 
disagreeable  modern  weddings.  It  is  a  crush  of  finery;  a 
smash  of  china;  a  confusion  of  voices;  and  everybody  has 
the  headache  after  it;  it 's  a  perfect  infliction  to  think  of 
being  obliged  to  go  to  another.  For  my  part,  I  believe  I 
am  going  to  leave  all  those  cares  to  Alice;  she  is  come  out 
now,  and  I  am  only  Queen  Dowager." 

"Oh,  pshaw,  Eva,  don't  talk  so,"  said  Aunt  Maria, 
"and  now  I  think  of  it  you  don't  look  well,  you  ought  to 
take  a  tonic  in  the  spring.  Let  me  see,  Calisaya  bark  and 
iron  is  just  the  thing.  I  '11  send  you  in  a  bottleful  from 
Jennings'  as  I  go  home,  and  you  must  take  a  tablespoonful 
three  times  a  day  after  eating,  and  be  very  particular  not 
to  fatigue  yourself." 

"I  think,"  said  Alice,  "that  Eva  gets  tired  going  to  all 
those  early  services." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  child,  yes ;  how  can  you  think  of  such  a 
thing?  It's  very  inconsiderate  in  Mr.  Selwyn,  I  think, 
to  have  so  many  services  when  he  must  know  many  wed 
dings  and  things  are  coming  off  just  after  Easter.  People 
will  be  all  fagged  out,  just  as  Eva  is.  Now  I  believe  in 
the  Church  as  much  as  anybody,  but  in  our  day  I  think 
there  is  danger  in  running  religion  to  extremes." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Eva,  "  I  suppose  there  is  no  danger  of  one 
running  to  extremes  in  anything  but  religion  —  in  dress  or 
parties,  for  instance  1 " 

"But  you  know  one  has  these  things  to  attend  to,  my 
dear;  one  must  keep  up  a  certain  style;  and,  of  course, 
there  is  a  proper  medium  that  I  hold  to  as  much  as  any 
body.  Nobody  is  more  particular  about  religion  in  its 
place  than  I  am.  I  keep  Sunday  strictly ;  very  few  people 
more  so.  I  never  ride  in  the  Park  Sundays,  nor  write  a 


264  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

letter,  though  I  have  seen  people  who  called  themselves 
religious  that  would.  No.  I  believe  in  giving  full  obser 
vance  to  the  Lord's  day,  but  then  I  think  one  ought  to 
have  the  week  clear  for  action.  That  belongs  to  us,  as  I 
view  it,  and  our  old  rector  was  very  easy  with  us  about  all 
the  saints'  days,  and  week-day  services,  and  things  in  the 
Prayer-Book.  To  be  sure,  there  are  Ash  Wednesday  and 
Good  Friday.  One,  of  course,  should  attend  to  these,  — 
that  is  no  more  than  is  proper;  but  the  way  Mr.  Selwyn 
goes  on!  why,  one  wouldn't  be  able  to  think  of  much  else 
than  religion  if  he  had  his  way." 

"What  a  dreadful  state  of  society  that  would  bring  on!  " 
said  Eva. 

"But  come,  Aunty,"  said  Alice,  "don't  talk  theology; 
tell  us  what  discoveries  you  made  at  the  Elmores'.  I  know 
they  showed  you  everything." 

"Oh,  of  course  they  did.  Well,  there's  the  wedding 
veil,  cost  two  thousand  dollars;  for  my  part,  I  thought  it 
looked  ordinary  after  all;  it's  so  thick  and  stiff  with  em 
broidery,  you  see  —  no  lightness  to  it." 

"I  wouldn't  take  it  as  a  gift,"  said  Eva.  "I  think  such 
expensive  things  are  simply  vulgar." 

"Go  on,  Aunty,"  said  Alice,  "what  next?" 

"  Well,  then  the  dress  has  a  new  style  of  trimming,  and 
really  is  very  elegant.  I  must  do  it  the  justice  to  say  that 
it 's  something  quite  recherche.  And  then  they  took  me 
upstairs  to  see  the  trousseau,  and  there  was  a  perfect 
bazaar !  all  her  things  laid  out  by  dozens  and  tied  up  with 
pink  ribbons,  —  you  would  have  thought  it  got  for  the 
Empress.  Those  Elmores  are  the  most  worldly  family  I 
ever  did  hear  of ;  all  for  dash  and  show !  They  seemed  to 
be  perfectly  transported  with  these  things,  —  and  that 
reminds  me,  Eva,  I  noticed  last  Sunday  at  church  your 
new  poplin  suit  was  made  with  quillings ;  now  they  are  not 
going  to  wear  quillings  any  more.  I  noticed  none  of  those 


AUNT  MARIA  265 

Paris  dresses  had  them.  You  should  have  Jacobs  alter  yours 
at  once,  and  substitute  fringes;  fringes  are  the  style  now." 

"And,  Aunty,  what  do  you  suppose  would  happen  to 
me  if  I  should  wear  quillings  when  THEY  don't?"  said 
Eva. 

"Well,  of  course,  you  don't  want  to  be  odd,  child. 
There  is  a  certain  propriety  in  all  these  things.  I  will 
speak  to  Jacobs  about  it,  and  send  him  up  here.  Shall 
I?" 

"Well,  Aunty,  anything  to  suit  you.  You  may  take 
off  quillings,  or  put  on  fringe,  if  you  won't  insist  on  mar 
rying  me  to  anybody,"  said  Eva;  "only  I  do  wish  any  one 
fashion  would  last  long  enough  to  give  one  time  to  breathe 
and  turn  round  before  it  has  to  be  altered;  but  the  Bible 
says  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  quickly  away,  and 
so  I  suppose  one  must  put  up  with  it." 

"Eva,  do  you  correspond  with  Mr.  Sydney? "  said  Aunt 
Maria  after  a  moment's  reflection. 

"Correspond?  No,  to  be  sure  I  don't.  What  should 
I  do  that  for?" 

"He  writes  to  mamma,  though,"  said  Alice,  laughing. 

"It's  his  own  affair  if  he  does,"  said  Eva.  "I  told 
him,  before  he  went,  I  never  corresponded  with  gentlemen. 
I  believe  that  is  the  correct  thing  to  say.  I  never  mean 
to,  either,  unless  it 's  with  one  whose  letters  are  particularly 
interesting  to  me." 

"How  do  you  like  that  young  Henderson?" 

"What,  Ida's  admirer?  "  said  Eva,  coloring.  "Oh,  we 
think  him  nice  enough.  Don't  we,  Alice?  —  rather  jolly, 
in  fact." 

"And  does  Ida  continue  gracious?  " 

"Certainly.  They  are  the  best  of  friends,"  said  Eva. 
"The  fact  is,  he  is  quite  a  fine  fellow;  and  he  reads  things 
to  Ida,  and  she  advises  him  about  his  style,  you  know." 

"He    and  Jim   Fellows    always    come    together,"    said 


266  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Alice;  "and  I  think  they  are  both  nice  —  in  fact,  rather 
better  than  the  average.  He  is  n't  quite  such  a  rattle- cap 
as  Jim,  but  one  trusts  him  more." 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  "I  don't  like  a  professed  joker.  A 
man  that  never  is  in  earnest  ought  to  wear  the  cap  and 
bells,  as  the  court  fools  used  to  do  in  old  times." 

"Oh,  bless  you,  child,"  said  Alice,  "that's  what  Jim 
is  for;  he  always  makes  me  laugh,  and  I  like  to  laugh." 

"Don't  you  think  that  Mr.  Henderson  would  do  nicely 
for  Ida  1 "  said  Aunt  Maria. 

"Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  Alice,  "neither  he  nor  Jim  Fel 
lows  are  marrying  men.  You  see,  they  have  n't  anything, 
and  of  course  they  can't  be  thinking  of  such  things." 

"But,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "Ida  is  just  the  wife  for  a 
poor  man.  She  has  a  turn  for  economy,  and  does  n't  care 
for  dress  and  show;  and  could  rub  and  scrub  along,  and 
help  to  support  the  family.  I  really  think  she  likes  work 
for  the  sake  of  it.  I  wish  to  mercy  she  could  be  engaged, 
and  get  all  these  dreadful  queer  plans  and  notions  out  of 
her  head.  I  am  always  so  puzzled  what  in  the  world  to 
tell  people  when  they  ask  why  she  doesn't  visit  and  go 
into  society." 

"Why  not  tell  the  truth,"  said  Eva,  "that  she  prefers 
to  help  papa  in  his  business  ?  " 

"Because,  love,  that's  so  odd.  People  can't  under 
stand  it." 

"They  can't  understand,"  said  Eva,  "that  a  woman  may 
be  tired  of  leading  a  lazy  life,  and  want  to  use  her  facul 
ties.  Well,  I  'm  sure  /  can  understand  it.  I  'd  give  all 
the  world  to  feel  that  I  was  of  as  much  real  use  to  any 
body  as  Ida  is  to  papa;  and  I  think  papa  likes  it  too. 
Poor,  dear  old  papa,  with  his  lovely  old  white  head,  who 
just  toils  and  slaves  for  us.  I  wish  I  could  help  him,  too." 

"Well,  dear,  I  can  tell  you  how  you  can  help  him." 

"How?" 


AUNT  MARIA  267 

"Marry  Wat  Sydney." 

11  Nonsense,  Aunt,  what  has  that  to  do  with  papa  ? " 
"It  would  have  more  to  do  than  you  think,"  said  Aunt 
Maria,  shaking  her  head  mysteriously. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

A    DISCUSSION    OF    THE    WOMAN    QUESTION    FROM    ALL 
POINTS 

THE  bold  intrusion  of  Miss  Audacia  Dangyereyes  into  my 
apartment  had  left  a  most  disagreeable  impression  on  my 
mind.  This  was  not  lessened  by  the  reception  of  her 
paper,  which  came  to  hand  in  due  course  of  next  mail, 
and  which  I  found  to  be  an  exposition  of  all  the  wildest 
principles  of  modern  French  communism.  It  consisted  of 
attacks  directed  about  equally  against  Christianity,  mar 
riage,  the  family  state,  and  all  human  laws  and  standing 
order,  whatsoever.  It  was  much  the  same  kind  of  writing 
with  which  the  populace  of  France  was  indoctrinated  and 
leavened  in  the  era  preceding  the  first  Revolution,  and 
which  in  time  bore  fruit  in  blood.  In  those  days,  as  now, 
such  doctrines  were  toyed  with  in  literary  salons  and  aris 
tocratic  circles,  where  their  novelty  formed  an  agreeable 
stimulus  in  the  vapid  commonplace  of  fashionable  life. 
They  were  then,  as  now,  embraced  with  enthusiasm  by  fair 
illuminati,  who  fancied  that  they  saw  in  them  a  dawn  of 
some  millennial  glory;  and  were  awakened  from  their 
dream,  like  Madame  Eoland,  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine, 
bowing  their  heads  to  death  and  crying,  "0  Liberty,  what 
things  are  done  in  thy  name !  " 

The  principal  difference  between  the  writers  on  the 
"Emancipated  Woman"  and  those  of  the  French  illumi 
nati  was  that  the  French  prototypes  were  men  and  women 
of  elegance,  culture,  and  education ;  whereas  their  Ameri 
can  imitators,  though  not  wanting  in  a  certain  vigor  and 


THE  WOMAN  QUESTION  269 

cleverness,  were  both  coarse  in  expression,  narrow  in  edu 
cation,  and  wholly  devoid  of  common  decency  in  their 
manner  of  putting  things.  It  was  a  paper  that  a  man  who 
reverenced  his  mother  and  sisters  could  scarcely  read  alone 
in  his  own  apartments  without  blushing  with  indignation 
and  vexation. 

Every  holy  secret  of  human  nature,  all  those  subjects  of 
which  the  grace  and  the  power  consist  in  their  exquisite 
delicacy  and  tender  refinement,  wrere  here  handled  with 
coarse  fingers.  Society  assumed  the  aspect  of  a  pack  of 
breeding  animals,  and  all  its  laws  and  institutions  were  to 
return  to  the  mere  animal  basis. 

It  was  particularly  annoying  to  me  that  this  paper,  with 
all  its  coarseness  and  grossness,  set  itself  up  to  be  the  head 
leader  of  Woman's  Rights;  and  to  give  its  harsh  clamors 
as  the  voice  of  woman.  Neither  was  I  at  all  satisfied  writh 
the  manner  in  which  I  had  been  dragooned  into  taking  it, 
and  thus  giving  my  name  and  money  to  its  circulation.  I 
had  actually  been  bullied  into  it;  because,  never  having 
contemplated  the  possibility  of  such  an  existence  as  a 
female  bully,  I  had  marked  out  in  my  mind  no  suitable 
course  of  conduct  adequate  to  the  treatment  of  one. 
"What  should  I  have  done?"  I  said  to  myself.  "What 
is  a  man  to  do  under  such  circumstances?  Shall  he  en 
gage  in  a  personal  scuffle?  Shall  he  himself  vacate  his 
apartment,  or  shall  he  call  in  a  policeman  ? " 

The  question  assumed  importance  in  my  eyes,  because  it 
was  quite  possible  that,  having  come  once,  she  might  come 
again;  that  the  same  course  of  conduct  might  be  used  to 
enforce  any  kind  of  exaction  which  she  should  choose  to 
lay  on  me.  But  most  of  all  was  I  sensitive  lest  by  any 
means  some  report  of  it  might  get  to  the  Van  Arsdels. 
My  trepidation  may  then  be  guessed  on  having  the  subject 
at  once  proposed  to  me  by  Mr.  Van  Arsdel  that  evening  as 
I  was  'sitting  with  him  and  Ida  in  her  study. 


270  MY   WIFE  AND  I 

"I  want  to  know,  Mr.  Henderson,"  he  said,  "if  you 
are  a  subscriber  for  the  'Emancipated  Woman,'  the  new 
organ  of  the  Woman's  Eights  party?  " 

"Now,  papa,"  said  Ida,  "that  is  a  little  unjust!  It 
only  professes  to  be  an  organ  of  the  party,  but  it  is  not 
recognized  by  us.'7 

"Have  you  seen  the  paper?"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel  to 
me.  Like  a  true  Yankee  I  avoided  the  question  by  asking 
another. 

"  Have  you  subscribed  to  it,  Mr.  Van  Arsdel  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes, "  said  he,  laughing,  "  I  confess  I  have ;  and 
a  pretty  mess  I  have  made  of  it.  It  is  not  a  paper  that 
any  decent  man  ought  to  have  in  his  house.  But  the 
woman  came  herself  into  my  counting-room  and,  actually, 
she  badgered  me  into  it;  I  could  n't  get  her  out.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do  with  her.  I  never  had  a  woman  go  on 
so  with  me  before.  I  was  flustered,  and  gave  her  my  five 
dollars  to  get  rid  of  her.  If  she  had  been  a  man  I  'd  have 
knocked  her  down." 

"Oh,  papa,"  said  Ida,  "I'll  tell  you  what  you  should 
have  done;  you  should  have  called  me.  She'd  have  got 
no  money  and  no  subscriptions  out  of  me,  nor  you  either 
if  I'd  been  there."  . 

"Now,  Mr.  Henderson,  misery  loves  company;  has  she 
been  to  your  room  ?  "  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel. 

"I  confess  she  has,"  said  I,  "and  that  I  have  done  just 
what  you  did  —  yielded  at  once. " 

"Mr.  Henderson,  all  this  sort  of  proceeding  is  thor 
oughly  vexatious  and  disagreeable,"  said  Ida;  "and  all  the 
more  so  that  it  tends  directly  to  injure  all  women  who  are 
trying  to  be  self-supporting  and  independent.  It  destroys 
that  delicacy  and  refinement  of  feeling  which  men,  and 
American  men  especially,  cherish  toward  women,  and  will 
make  the  paths  of  self-support  terribly  hard  to  those  who 
have  to  tread  them.  There  really  is  not  the  slightest  rea- 


THE   WOMAN   QUESTION  271 

son  why  a  woman  should  cease  to  be  a  woman  because  she 
chooses  to  be  independent  and  pursue  a  self-supporting 
career.  And  claiming  a  right  to  dispense  with  womanly 
decorums  and  act  like  a  man  is  just  as  ridiculous  as  it 
would  be  for  a  man  to  claim  the  right  to  wear  woman's 
clothes.  Even  if  we  supposed  that  society  were  so  altered 
as  to  give  to  woman  every  legal  and  every  social  right  that 
man  has ;  and  if  all  the  customs  of  society  should  allow  her 
to  do  the  utmost  that  she  can  for  herself,  in  the  way  of 
self-support,  still,  women  will  be  relatively  weaker  than 
men,  and  there  will  be  the  same  propriety  in  their  being 
treated  with  consideration  and  delicacy  and  gentleness  that 
there  now  is.  And  the  assumptions  of  these  hoydens  and 
bullies  have  a  tendency  to  destroy  that  feeling  of  chivalry 
and  delicacy  on  the  part  of  men.  It  is  especially  annoying 
and  galling  to  me,  because  I  do  propose  to  myself  a  path 
different  from  that  in  which  young  women  in  my  position 
generally  have  walked;  and  such  reasoners  as  Aunt  Maria 
and  all  the  ladies  of  her  circle  will  not  fail  to  confound 
Miss  Audacia's  proceedings  and  opinions,  and  mine,  as  all 
belonging  to  the  same  class.  As  to  the  opinions  of  the 
paper,  it  is  mainly  by  the  half  truths  that  are  in  it  that  it 
does  mischief.  If  there  were  not  real  evils  to  be  corrected, 
and  real  mistakes  in  society,  this  kind  of  thing  would  have 
no  power.  As  it  is,  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  will  acquire 
a  certain  popularity  and  do  immense  mischief.  I  think 
the  elements  of  mischief  and  confusion  in  our  republic  are 
gathering  as  fast  as  they  did  in  France  before  the  Revolu 
tion." 

"And,"  said  I,  "after  all,  republics  are  on  trial  before 
the  world.  Our  experiment  is  not  yet  two  hundred  years 
old,  and  we  have  all  sorts  of  clouds  and  storms  gathering 
—  the  labor  question,  the  foreign  immigration  question, 
the  woman  question,  the  monopoly  and  corporation  ques 
tion,  all  have  grave  aspects." 


272  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"You  see,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said  Ida,  "as  to  this 
woman  question,  the  moderate  party  to  which  I  belong  is 
just  at  that  disadvantage  that  people  always  are  when  there 
is  a  party  on  ahead  of  them  who  hold  some  of  their  princi 
ples  and  are  carrying  them  to  every  ridiculous  extreme. 
They  have  to  uphold  a  truth  that  is  constantly  being 
brought  into  disrepute  and  made  ridiculous  by  these  ultra 
advocates.  For  my  part,  all  I  can  do  is  to  go  quietly  on 
with  what  I  knew  was  right  before.  What  is  right  is 
right,  and  remains  right  no  matter  how  much  ultraists  may 
caricature  it." 

"Yes,  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  "but  what 
would  become  of  our  country  if  all  the  women  could  vote, 
and  people  like  Miss  Audacia  Dangyereyes  should  stump 
the  country  as  candidates  for  election  1  " 

"Well,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ida,  "we  should  have  very  dis 
agreeable  times,  and  a  great  deal  to  shock  us." 

"It  is  not  merely  that,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel;  "the  in 
fluence  of  such  women  on  young  men  would  be  demoraliz 
ing." 

"When  I  think  of  such  dangers,"  said  Ida,  "I  am,  on 
the  whole,  very  well  pleased  that  there  is  no  immediate 
prospect  of  the  suffrage  being  granted  to  women  until  a 
generation  with  superior  education  and  better  balanced 
minds  and  better  habits  of  consecutive  thought  shall  have 
grown  up  among  us.  I  think  the  gift  of  the  ballot  will 
come  at  last  as  the  result  of  a  superior  culture  and  educa 
tion.  And  I  am  in  no  hurry  for  it  before." 

"What  is  all  this  that  you  are  talking  about?"  said 
Eva,  who  came  into  the  room  just  at  this  moment.  "Ma 
and  Aunt  Maria  ire  in  such  a  state  about  that  paper  that 
papa  has  just  brought  home!  They  say  there  are  most 
horrid  things  in  it,  Mr.  Henderson;  and  they  say  that  if. 
belongs  to  the  party  which  you,  and  Ida,  and  all  your  pro 
gressive  people  are  in." 


THE    WOMAN   QUESTION  273 

"It  is  an  excrescence  of  the  party,"  said  I;  "a  diseased 
growth;  and  neither  Miss  Ida  nor  I  will  accept  of  it  as 
any  expression  of  our  opinion,  though  it  does  hold  some 
things  which  we  believe." 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  "I  am  curious  to  see  it,  just  because 
they  don't  want  I  should.  What  can  there  be  in  it  so 
very  bad  1 " 

"You  may  as  well  keep  out  of  it,  chick,"  said  her 
father,  caressing  her.  "And  now,  I'll  tell  you,  Ida,  just 
what  I  think;  you  good  women  are  not  fit  to  govern  the 
world,  because  you  do  not  know,  and  you  oughtn't  to 
know,  the  wickedness  that  you  have  got  to  govern.  We 
men  have  to  know  all  about  the  rogues,  and  the  sharpers, 
and  the  pickpockets,  and  the  bullies;  we  have  to  grow 
hard  and  sharp,  and  '  cut  our  eye-teeth, '  as  the  saying  is, 
so  that  at  last  we  come  to  not  having  much  faith  in  any 
body.  The  rule  is,  pretty  much,  not  to  believe  anybody 
that  you  meet,  and  to  take  for  granted  that  every  man  that 
you  have  dealings  with  will  cheat  you  if  he  can.  That 's 
bad  enough,  but  when  it  comes  to  feeling  that  every 
ivoman  will  cheat  you  if  she  can,  when  women  cut  their 
eye-teeth,  and  get  to  be  sharp,  and  hard,  and  tricky,  as 
men  are,  then  I  say,  Look  out  for  yourself,  and  deliver 
me  from  having  anything  to  do  with  them." 

"Why,  really!"  said  Eva,  "papa  is  getting  to  be  quite 
an  orator.  I  never  heard  him  talk  so  much  before.  Papa, 
why  don't  you  go  on  to  the  platform  at  the  next  Woman's 
Bights  Convention,  and  give  them  a  good  blast  1 " 

"Oh,  I'll  let  them  alone,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel;  "I 
don't  want  to  be  mixed  up  with  them,  and  I  don't  want 
my  girls  to  be,  either.  Now,  I  do  not  object  to  what  Ida 
is  doing,  and  going  to  do.  I  think  there  is  real  sense  in 
that,  although  mother  and  Aunt  Maria  feel  so  dreadfully 
about  it.  I  like  to  see  a  woman  have  pluck,  and  set  her 
self  to  be  good  for  something  in  the  world.  And  I  don't 


274  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

see  why  there  shouldn't  be  women  doctors;  it  is  just  the 
thing  there  ought  to  be.  But  I  don't  go  for  all  this  hur 
rah  and  hullaballoo,  and  pitching  women  head-first  into 
politics,  and  sending  them  to  legislatures,  and  making  them 
candidates  for  Congress,  and  for  the  Presidency,  and  no 
body  knows  what  else." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "why  not  a  woman  President  as  well 
as  a  woman  Queen  of  England  ?  " 

"Because,"  said  he,  "look  at  the  difference.  The 
woman  Queen  in  England  comes  to  it  quietly;  she  is  born 
to  it,  and  there  is  no  fuss  about  it.  But  whoever  is  set 
up  to  be  President  of  the  United  States  is  just  set  up  to 
have  his  character  torn  off  from  his  back  in  shreds,  and  to 
be  mauled,  pummeled,  and  covered  with  dirt  by  every 
filthy  paper  all  over  the  country.  And  no  woman  that 
was  not  willing  to  be  draggled  through  every  kennel,  and 
slopped  into  every  dirty  pail  of  water,  like  an  old  mop, 
would  ever  consent  to  run  as  a  candidate.  Why,  it 's  an 
ordeal  that  kills  a  man.  It  killed  General  Harrison,  and 
killed  old  Zack.  And  what  sort  of  a  brazen  tramp  of  a 
woman  would  it  be  that  could  stand  it,  and  come  out  of  it 
without  being  killed  ?  Would  it  be  any  kind  of  a  woman 
that  we  should  want  to  see  at  the  head  of  our  government  ? 
I  tell  you,  it 's  quite  another  thing  to  be  President  of  a 
democratic  republic  from  what  it  is  to  be  hereditary 
Queen." 

"Good  for  you,  papa!"  said  Eva,  clapping  her  hands. 
"Why,  how  you  go  on!  I  never  did  hear  such  eloquence. 
No,  Ida,  set  your  mind  at  rest,  you  sha'n't  be  run  for 
President  of  the  United  States.  You  are  a  great  deal  too 
good  for  that." 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  "there's  your  friend, 
Mrs.  Cerulean,  tackled  me  the  other  night,  and  made  a 
convert  of  me,  she  said.  Bless  me!  she's  a  handsome 
woman,  and  I  like  to  hear  her  talk.  And  if  we  didn't 


THE   WOMAN   QUESTION  275 

live  in  the  world  we  do,  and  things  were  n't  in  any  respect 
what  they  are,  nothing  would  be  nicer  than  to  let  her  gov 
ern  the  world.  But  in  the  great  rough  round  of  business 
she's  nothing  but  a  pretty  baby  after  all,  — nothing  else 
in  the  world.  We  let  such  women  convert  us,  because  we 
like  to  have  them  around.  It  amuses  us,  and  don't  hurt 
them.  But  you  can't  let  your  baby  play  with  matches 
and  gunpowder,  if  it  wants  to  ever  so  much.  Women  are 
famous  for  setting  things  a-going  that  they  don't  know 
anything  about.  And  then,  when  the  explosion  comes, 
they  don't  know  what  did  it,  and  run  screaming  to  the 
men." 

"As  to  Mrs.  Cerulean,"  said  Eva,  "I  never  saw  any 
body  that  had  such  a  perfectly  happy  opinion  of  herself  as 
she  has.  She  always  thinks  that  she  understands  every 
thing  by  intuition.  I  believe  in  my  heart  that  she  'd  walk 
into  the  engine-room  of  the  largest  steamship  that  ever  was 
navigated,  and  turn  out  the  chief  engineer  and  take  his 
place,  if  he  'd  let  her.  She  'd  navigate  by  woman's  God- 
given  instincts,  as  she  calls  them." 

"And  so  she  'd  keep  on  till  she  'd  blown  up  the  ship," 
said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "one  fact  is  to  be  admitted,  that  men, 
having  always  governed  the  world,  must  by  this  time  have 
acquired  a  good  deal  of  traditional  knowledge  of  the  science 
of  government,  and  of  human  nature^  which  women  can't 
learn  by  intuition  in  a  minute." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Ida,  "I  never  was  disposed  to  in 
sist  on  the  immediate  granting  of  political  rights  to  women. 
I  think  that  they  are  rights,  and  that  it  is  very  important 
for  the  good  of  society  that  these  rights  should  finally  be 
respected.  But  I  am  perfectly  willing,  for  my  part,  to 
wait  and  come  to  them  in  the  way,  and  at  the  time,  that 
will  be  best  for  the  general  good.  I  would  a  great  deal 
rather  come  to  them  by  gradual  evolution  than  by  destruc- 


276  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

tive  revolution.  I  do  not  want  them  to  be  forced  upon 
society,  when  there  is  so  little  preparation  among  women 
that  they  will  do  themselves  no  credit  by  it.  All  history 
shows  that  the  most  natural  and  undeniable  human  rights 
may  be  granted  and  maintained  in  a  way  that  will  just 
defeat  themselves,  and  bring  discredit  on  all  the  supporters 
of  them,  just  as  was  the  case  with  the  principles  of  demo 
cratic  liberty  in  the  first  French  Revolution.  I  do  not 
want  the  political  rights  of  woman  advocated  in  a  mariner 
that  will  create  similar  disturbances,  and  bring  a  lasting 
scandal  on  what  really  is  the  truth.  I  do  not  want  women 
to  have  the  ballot  till  they  will  do  themselves  credit  and 
improve  society  by  it.  I  like  to  have  the  subject  pro 
posed,  and  argued,  arid  agitated,  and  kept  up,  in  hopes 
that  a  generation  of  women  will  be  educated  for  it.  And 
I  think  it  is  a  great  deal  better  and  safer,  where  it  can  be 
done,  to  have  people  educated  for  the  ballot,  than  to  have 
them  educated  by  the  ballot." 

"Well,  Ida,  there  's  more  sense  in  you  than  in  the  most 
of  'em,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel. 

"Yes,"  said  Ida,  "I  think  that  an  immediate  rush  into 
politics  of  such  women  as  we  have  now,  without  experience 
or  knowledge  of  political  economy  of  affairs,  would  be,  as 
Eva  says,  just  like  women's  undertaking  to  manage  the 
machinery  of  a  large  steamer  by  feminine  instincts.  I 
hope  never  to  see  women  in  public  life  till  we  have  had  a 
generation  of  women  wrho  have  some  practical  familiarity 
with  the  great  subjects  which  are  to  be  considered,  about 
which  now  the  best  instructed  women  know  comparatively 
nothing.  The  question  which  mainly  interests  me  at  pre 
sent  is  a  humanitarian  one.  It 's  an  absolute  fact  that  a 
great  portion  of  womankind  have  their  own  living  to  get; 
and  they  do  it  now,  as  a  general  rule,  with  many  of  the 
laws  and  institutions  of  society  against  them.  The  reason 
of  this  is,  that  all  these  laws  and  institutions  have  been 


THE   WOMAN   QUESTION  277 

made  by  men,  without  any  consent  or  concurrence  of  theirs. 
Now,  as  women  are  different  from  men,  and  have  altogether 
a  different  class  of  feelings  and  wants  and  necessities,  it 
certainly  is  right  and  proper  that  they  should  have  some 
share  in  making  the  laws  with  which  they  are  to  be  gov 
erned.  It  is  true  that  the  laws  have  been  made  by  fathers 
and  brothers  and  husbands;  but  no  man,  however  near, 
ever  comprehends  fully  the  necessities  and  feelings  of 
women.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  a  State  where  all  the 
laws  are  made  by  men,  without  women,  is  just  like  a  fam 
ily  that  is  managed  entirely  by  fathers  and  brothers,  with 
out  any  concurrence  of  mothers  and  sisters.  That 's  my 
testimony,  and  my  view  of  the  matter." 

"I  don't  see,"  said  Eva,  "if  women  are  to  make  the 
laws  in  relation  to  their  own  interests,  or  to  have  a  voice 
in  making  them,  why  they  need  go  into  politics  with  men 
in  order  to  do  it,  or  why  they  need  cease  to  act  like  women. 
If  the  thing  has  got  to  be  done,  I  would  have  a  parliament 
of  women  meet  by  themselves,  and  deliberate  and  have  a 
voice  in  all  that  concerns  the  State.  There,  that 's  my 
contribution  to  the  programme." 

"That's  the  way  the  Quakers  manage  their  affairs  in 
their  yearly  meetings,"  said  Ida.  "I  remember  I  was 
visiting  Aunt  Dinah  once,  during  a  yearly  meeting,  and 
learned  all  about  it.  I  remember  the  sisters  had  a  voice 
in  everything  that  was  done.  The  Quaker  women  have 
acquired  in  this  way  a  great  deal  of  facility  in  the  manage 
ment  of  business,  and  a  great  knowledge  of  affairs.  They 
really  seem  to  me  superior  to  the  men." 

"I  can  account  for  that,"  said  I.  "A  man  among  the 
Quakers  is  restricted  and  held  in,  and  hasn't  as  much  to 
cultivate  and  develop  him  as  ordinary  men  in  the  world; 
whereas,  woman,  among  the  Quakers,  has  her  sphere  wid 
ened  and  developed." 

At  this  moment  our  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 


278  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

entrance  of  Jim  Fellows.  He  seemed  quite  out  of  breath 
and  excited,  and  had  no  sooner  passed  the  compliments  of 
the  evening  than  he  began. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "Hal,  I  have  just  come  from  the  Po 
lice  Court,  where  there  's  a  precious  row.  Our  friend  'Dacia 
Dangyereyes  is  up  for  blackmailing  and  swindling;  and 
there  's  a  terrible  wash  of  dirty  linen  going  on.  I  was  just 
in  time  to  get  the  very  earliest  notes  for  our  paper." 

"Good!"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel.  "I  hope  the  creature 
is  caught  at  last." 

"Never  believe  that,"  said  Jim.  "She  has  as  many 
lives  as  a  cat.  They  never  '11  get  a  hold  on  her.  She  '11 
talk  'em  all  round." 

"  Disgusting !  "  said  Ida. 

"Ah!"  said  Jim,  "it's  part  of  the  world  as  it  goes. 
She  '11  come  off  with  flying  colors,  doubtless,  and  her 
cock's-feathers  will  be  flaunting  all  the  merrier  for  it." 

"How  horribly  disagreeable,"  said  Eva,  "to  have  such 
women  around.  It  makes  one  ashamed  of  one's  sex." 

"I  think,"  said  Ida,  "there  is  not  sufficient  resemblance 
to  a  real  woman  in  her  to  make  much  trouble  on  her  ac 
count.  She  's  an  amphibious  animal,  belonging  to  a  tran 
sition  period  of  human  society." 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  "if  you'll  believe  it,  Mrs.  Cerulean 
and  two  or  three  of  the  ladies  of  her  set  are  actually  going 
to  invite  'Dacia  to  their  salon,  and  patronize  her." 

"Impossible!"  said  Ida,  flushing  crimson;  "it  cannot 
be!" 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  Mrs.  Cerulean,"  said  Jim;  "  'Dacia 
called  on  her  with  her  newspaper,  and  conducted  herself 
in  a  most  sweet  and  winning  manner,  and  cast  herself  at 
her  feet  for  patronage;  and  Mrs.  Cerulean,  regarding  her 
through  those  glory  spectacles  which  she  usually  wears, 
took  her  up  immediately  as  a  promising  candidate  for  the 
latter  day.  Mrs.  Cerulean  don't  see  anything  in.'Dacia's 


THE   WOMAN    QUESTION  279 

paper  that,  properly  interpreted,  need  make  any  trouble; 
because,  you  see,  as  she  says,  everything  ought  to  be  love, 
everywhere,  above  and  below,  under  and  over,  up  and 
down,  top  and  side  and  bottom,  ought  to  be  love,  LOVE. 
And  then  when  there 's  general  all  -  overness  and  all- 
throughness,  and  an  entire  mixed-up-ativeness,  then  the 
infinite  will  come  down  into  the  finite,  and  the  finite  will 
overflow  into  the  infinite,  and,  in  short,  Miss  'Dacia's 
cock's-feathers  will  sail  right  straight  up  into  heaven,  and 
we  shall  see  her  cheek  by  jowl  with  the  angel  Gabriel, 
promenading  the  streets  of  the  new  Jerusalem.  That 's 
the  programme.  Meamvhile,  'Dacia  's  delighted.  She 
had  n't  the  remotest  idea  of  being  an  angel,  or  anything  of 
the  sort;  but  since  good  judges  have  told  her  she  is,  she 
takes  it  all  very  contentedly." 

"Oh,"  said  Ida,  "it  really  can't  be  true,  Mr.  Fellows; 
it  really  is  impossible  that  such  ladies  as  Mrs.  Cerulean 's 
set  —  ladies  of  family  and  position,  ladies  of  real  dignity 
and  delicacy  —  are  going  to  indorse  the  principles  of  that 
paper;  principles  which  go  to  the  immediate  dissolution  of 
civilized  society." 

"That's  just  what  they  are  doing,"  said  Jim;  "and 
they  are  having  a  glorious  high  old  time  doing  it  too.  Mrs. 
Cerulean  herself  intends  to  write  for  the  paper  on  the  sub 
ject  of  fortification  and  twentification  and  unification,  and 
everything  else  that  ends  with  ation.  And  it  is  thought 
it  will  improve  the  paper  to  have  some  nice  little  hymns 
inserted  in  it,  to  the  tune  of  *  I  Want  to  be  an  Angel. '  I 
asked  Mrs.  Cerulean  what  if  my  friend  'Dacia  should  rip 
an  oath  in  the  midst  of  one  of  her  salors  —  you  know  the 
little  wretch  does  swear  like  a  pirate;  and  you  ought  to 
see  how  serenely  she  looked  over  my  head  into  the  far  dis 
tant  future,  and  answered  me  so  tenderly,  as  if  I  had  been 
a  two  hours'  chicken  peeping  to  her.  '  Oh,  James, '  says 
she,  *  there  are  many  opinions  yet  to  be  expressed  on  the 


280  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

subject  of  what  is  commonly  called  profanity.  I  have 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  myself,  that  in  impassioned  na 
tures  what  is  called  profanity  is  only  the  state  of  prophetic 
exaltation  which  naturally  seeks  vent  in  intensified  lan 
guage.  I  should  n't  think  the  worse  of  this  fine  vigorous 
creature  if,  in  a  moment's  inspired  frenzy,  she  should  burst 
the  tame  boundaries  of  ordinary  language.  It  is  true,  the 
vulgar  might  call  it  profane.  It  requires  anointed  eyes  to 
see  such  things  truly.  When  we  have  risen  to  these 
heights  where  we  now  stand,  we  behold  all  things  purified. 
There  is  around  us  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth. '  And 
so  you  see,  'Dacia  Dangyereyes  turns  out  a  tip- top  angel  of 
the  New  Dispensation." 

"Well,"  said  Ida,  rising,  with  heightened  color,  "this, 
of  course,  ends  my  intercourse  with  Mrs.  Cerulean,  if  it  be 
true." 

"But,"  said  Eva,  "how  can  they  bear  the  scandal  of 
this  disgraceful  trial  ?  This  certainly  will  open  their  eyes. " 

"Oh,"  said  Jim,  "you  will  see,  Mrs.  Cerulean  will  ad 
here  all  the  closer  for  this.  It 's  persecution,  and  virtue 
in  all  ages  has  been  persecuted;  therefore,  all  who  are  per 
secuted  are  virtuous.  Don't  you  see  the  logical  consis 
tency?  And  then,  don't  the  Bible  say,  'Blessed  are  ye 
when  men  persecute  you,  and  say  all  manner  of  evil  against 
you  '  ? " 

"It  don't  appear  to  me,"  said  Ida,  "that  she  can  so  far 
go  against  all  common  sense." 

"Common  sense!"  said  Jim;  "Mrs.  Cerulean  and  her 
clique  have  long  since  risen  above  anything  like  common 
sense;  all  their  sense  is  of  the  most  uncommon  kind,  and 
relates  to  a  region  somewhere  up  in  the  clouds,  where 
everything  is  made  to  match.  They  live  in  an  imaginary 
world,  and  reason  with  imaginary  reasons,  and  see  people 
through  imaginary  spectacles,  and  have  glorious  good  times 
all  the  while.  All  I  wish  is,  that  I  could  get  up  there 


THE   WOMAN   QUESTION  281 

and  live;  for  you  see  I  get  into  the  state  of  prophetic  ec 
stasy  pretty  often  with  this  confounded  hard  grind  below 
here,  and  then,  when  I  rip  out  a  naughty  word,  nohody 
sees  the  beauty  of  it.  Mother  looks  glum.  Sister  ]S"ell 
says,  '  Oh,  Jim ! '  and  looks  despairing. " 

"But  the  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  "Mrs.  Cerulean 
is  a  respectable  woman,  of  respectable  family,  and  this  girl 
is  a  tramp;  that  'a  what  she  is;  and  it  is  absolutely  impos 
sible  that  Mrs.  Cerulean  can  know  what  she  is  about." 

"Well,  I  delicately  suggested  some  such  thing  to  Mrs. 
Cerulean,"  said  Jim;  "but,  bless  me!  the  way  she  set  me 
down !  Says  she,  *  Do  you  men  ever  inquire  into  the  char 
acter  of  people  that  you  unite  with  to  carry  your  purposes? 
You  join  with  anybody  that  will  help  you,  without  regard 
to  antecedents !  ' ; 

"She  don't  speak  the  truth,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel. 
"We  men  are  very  particular  about  the  record  of  those  we 
join  with  to  carry  our  purposes.  You  wouldn't  find  a 
board  of  bankers  taking  a  man  that  had  a  record  for  swin 
dling,  or  a  man  that  edited  a  paper  arguing  against  all  rights 
of  property.  Doctors  won't  admit  a  man  among  them  who 
has  the  record  of  a  quack  or  a  malpractitioner.  Clergymen 
won't  admit  a  man  among  them  who  has  a  record  of  licen 
tiousness  or  infidel  sentiments.  And  if  women  will  admit 
women  in  utter  disregard  of  their  record  of  chastity  or 
their  lax  principles  as  to  the  family,  they  act  on  lower 
principles  than  any  body  of  men." 

"Besides,"  said  I,  "that  kind  of  tolerance  cuts  the  very 
ground  from  under  the  whole  woman  movement;  for  the 
main  argument  for  proposing  it  was  to  introduce  into  poli 
tics  that  superior  delicacy  and  purity  which  women  mani 
fest  in  family  life.  But  if  women  are  going  to  be  less 
careful  about  delicacy  and  decorum  and  family  purity  than 
men  are,  the  quagmire  of  politics,  foul  enough  now,  will 
become  putrid." 


282  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Oh,  come,"  said  Eva,  "the  subject  does  get  too  dread 
ful;  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it,  and  I  move  that  we  have 
a  game  of  whist,  and  put  an  end  to  it.  Come,  now,  do 
let's  sit  down  sociably,  and  have  something  agreeable." 

We  went  out  into  the  parlor  and  sat  down  to  the  whist- 
table,  Eva  and  Alice,  with  Jim  Fellows  and  myself  respec 
tively  as  partners,  and  indulged  ourselves  in  one  of  those 
agreeable  chatty  games  which  make  the  designation  "whist " 
quite  an  amusing  satire  —  one  of  those  games  played  with 
that  charming  disregard  of  all  rules  which  is  so  inspiring. 
In  the  best  of  spirits  we  talked  across  the  table  to  each 
other,  trumped  our  partners'  queens,  and  did  all  sorts  of 
enormities  in  the  excitement  of  the  brilliant  by-play  of 
conversation  which  we  kept  up  all  the  while.  It  may  be 
a  familiar  experience  to  many,  that  one  never  thinks  of 
so  many  things  to  say,  and  so  many  fruitful  topics  for  im 
mediate  discussion,  as  when  one  professes  to  be  playing 
whist.  But  then,  if  a  young  gentleman  wishes  a  good 
opportunity  to  reconnoitre  a  certain  face,  no  more  advan 
tageous  position  can  be  given  him  than  to  have  it  vis-a-vis 
at  the  Avhist-table. 

"Now,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said  Alice,  "we  are  going  to 
make  a  good  Churchman  of  you." 

"I  am  happy  to  hear  it,"  said  I.  "I  am  ready  to  be 
made  anything  good  of  that  you  can  mention." 

"Well,"  said  Alice,  "we  are  going  to  press  you  and  Mr. 
Fellows,  here,  into  the  service  of  the  Church." 

"Shall  be  perfectly  enchanted!"  said  Jim.  "If  the 
Church  only  knew  my  energies,  they  would  have  tried  to 
get  me  long  before." 

"Then,"  said  Eva,  "you  must  go  with  us  to-morrow 
evening;  for  we  are  going  to  be  up  all  night,  about  the 
floral  decorations  of  our  church  for  Easter  morning.  Oh! 
you  have  no  idea  what  splendid  things  we  are  going  to  do. 
We  shall  be  at  work  hard,  all  day  to-morrow,  upon  our 


THE   WOMAN    QUESTION  283 

wreaths  and  crosses;  and  the  things  must  all  be  put  up  late 
at  night  so  as  to  keep  them  from  withering.  Then,  you 
know,  we  must  be  out  again  to  the  sunrise  service." 

"Why,"  said  I,  "it  is  a  regular  piece  of  dissipation." 

"Certainly, — religious  dissipation,  you  know,"  said 
Alice. 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  "I  don't  know  why  we  should  not 
be  up  all  night  to  dress  the  church,  for  once  in  our  lives, 
as  well  as  to  be  up  all  night  dancing  the  german.  Ida 
says  it  is  wicked  to  do  either.  Ida  makes  a  perfect  hobby 
of  everybody's  keeping  their  health." 

"Yes,  but,"  said  I,  "if  people  keep  themselves,  gener 
ally,  in  temperance  and  soberness,  they  can  afford  a  great 
strain,  now  and  then,  if  it  be  for  a  good  purpose." 

"At  any  rate,"  said  Eva,  "you  and  Mr.  Fellows  come 
round  and  take  tea  with  us  and  help  us  carry  our  trophies 
to  the  church." 


CHAPTER   XXV 

COUSIN    CAROLINE    AGAIN 

ABOUT  this  time  I  received  the  following  letter  from  my 
Cousin  Caroline :  — 

DEAR  COUSIN,  —  I  have  had  no  time  to  keep  up  corre 
spondence  with  anybody  for  the  past  year.  The  state  of 
my  father's  health  has  required  my  constant  attention,  day 
and  night,  to  a  degree  that  has  absorbed  all  my  power,  and 
left  no  time  for  writing.  For  the  last  six  months  father 
has  been  perfectly  helpless  with  the  most  distressing  form 
of  chronic  rheumatism.  His  sufferings  have  been  pro 
tracted  and  intense,  so  that  it  has  been  wearing  even  to 
witness  them ;  and  the  utmost  that  I  could  do  seemed  to 
bring  very  little  relief.  And  when,  at  last,  death  closed 
the  scene,  it  seemed  to  be  in  mercy,  putting  an  end  to 
sufferings  which  were  intolerable. 

For  a  month  after  his  death  I  was  in  a  state  of  utter 
prostration,  both  physical  and  mental,  —  worn  out  with 
watching  and  care.  My  poor  father!  he  was  himself  to 
the  last,  reticent,  silent,  undemonstrative,  and  uncommuni 
cative.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  would  have  given  worlds 
for  one  tender  word  from  him.  I  felt  a  pity  and  a  love 
that  I  dared  not  show;  his  sufferings  went  to  my  very 
heart;  but  he  repelled  every  word  of  sympathy,  and  was 
cold  and  silent  to  the  last.  Yet  I  believe  that  he  really 
loved  me,  and  that  far  within  this  frozen  circle  of  ice  his 
soul  was  a  lonely  prisoner,  longing  to  express  itself,  and 
unable;  longing  for  the  light  and  warmth  of  that  love 


COUSIN   CAROLINE   AGAIN  285 

which  never  could  touch  him  in  its  icy  depths;  and  I  am 
quite  sure,  it  is  my  comfort  to  know,  that  death  has  broken 
the  ice  and  melted  the  bands;  and  I  believe  that  he  has 
entered  the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  a  little  child. 

The  hard  skies  of  our  New  England,  its  rocky  soil,  its 
severe  necessities,  make  characters  like  his;  and  they  in 
trench  themselves  in  a  similar  religious  faith  which  makes 
them  still  harder.  They  live  to  aspire  and  to  suffer,  but 
never  to  express  themselves;  and  every  soft  and  warm 
heart  that  is  connected  with  them  pines  and  suffers  and 
dies  like  flowers  that  are  thrown  upon  icebergs. 

Well,  all  is  now  over,  and  I  am  free  of  the  world.  I 
have,  in  the  division  of  the  property,  a  few  acres  of  wood- 
lot,  and  many  acres  of  rough,  stony  land,  and  about  a 
hundred  dollars  of  yearly  income.  I  must  do  something, 
therefore,  for  my  own  support.  Ever  since  you  left  us  I 
have  been  reading  and  studying  under  the  care  of  your 
uncle,  who,  since  your  conversation  with  him,  has  been 
very  kind  and  thoughtful.  But  then,  of  course,  my  stud 
ies  have  been  interrupted  by  some  duties,  and,  during  the 
last  year,  suspended  altogether  by  the  necessity  of  giving 
myself  to  the  care  of  father. 

Now,  my  desire  is,  if  I  could  in  any  way  earn  the 
means  to  go  to  France  and  perfect  myself  in  medical  stud 
ies.  I  am  told  that  a  medical  education  can  be  obtained 
there  by  women  cheaper  than  anywhere  else;  and  I  have 
cast  about  in  my  own  mind  how  I  might  earn  money 
enough  to  enable  me  to  do  it.  Now  I  ask  you,  who  are  in 
New  York  and  on  the  press,  who  know  me  thoroughly, 
and  it  also,  could  I,  should  I  come  to  New  York,  gain  any 
situation  as  writer  for  the  press,  which  would  give  me  an 
income  for  a  year  or  two,  by  which  I  could  make  enough 
to  accomplish  my  purpose  1  I  should  not  wish  to  be  always 
a  writer ;  it  would  be  too  exhausting ;  but  if  I  could  get 
into  a  profession  that  I  am  well  adapted  for,  I  should  ex 
pect  to  succeed  in  it. 


286  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

I  have  the  ability  to  live  and  make  a  respectable  appear- 
ance  upon  a  very  little.  I  know  enough,  practically,  of 
the  arts  of  woman-craft  to  clothe  myself  handsomely  for  a 
small  sum,  and  I  am  willing  to  live  in  cheap,  obscure 
lodgings,  and  think  I  could  board  myself,  also,  for  a  very 
moderate  sum.  I  am  willing  to  undergo  privations,  and 
to  encounter  hard  work  to  carry  my  purpose,  and  I  write 
to  you,  dear  cousin,  because  I  know  you  will  speak  to  me 
just  as  freely  as  though  I  were  not  a  woman,  and  give  me 
your  unbiased  opinion  as  to  whether  or  no  I  could  do  any 
thing  in  the  line  that  I  indicate.  I  know  that  you  would 
give  me  all  the  assistance  in  your  power,  and  feel  a  perfect 
reliance  upon  your  friendship. 

The  letter  here  digressed  into  local  details  and  family 
incidents  not  necessary  to  be  reproduced.  I  resolved  to 
lay  it  before  Bolton.  It  seemed  to  me  that  his  reception 
of  it  would  furnish  some  sort  of  clue  to  the  mystery  of  his 
former  acquaintance  with  her.  The  entire  silence  that  he 
had  always  maintained  with  regard  to  his  former  knowledge 
of  her,  while  yet  he  secretly  treasured  her  picture,  seemed 
to  me  to  indicate  that  he  might  somehow  have  been  con 
nected  with  that  passage  of  her  life  referred  to  by  my 
mother  when  she  said  that  Caroline's  father  had,  at  one 
period  of  her  life,  crushed  out  an  interest  that  was  vital  to 
her. 

"The  sly  old  fox,"  said  I  to  myself,  "always  draws  me 
on  to  tell  him  everything,  while  he  keeps  a  close  mouth, 
and  I  learn  nothing  of  him."  Of  course,  I  felt  that  to  ask 
any  questions  or  seek  to  pry  into  a  past  which  he  evidently 
was  not  disposed  to  talk  about,  would  be  an  indelicate  im 
pertinence.  But  my  conscience  and  sense  of  honor  were 
quite  appeased  by  this  opportunity  presented  by  Caroline's 
letter.  Bolton  was  older  in  the  press  than  I  and,  with  all 
his  reticence  and  modesty,  had  a  wide  circle  of  influence. 


COUSIN   CAROLINE  AGAIN  287 

He  seemed  contented  to  seek  nothing  for  himself;  but  I 
had  had  occasion  to  notice  in  my  own  experience  that  he 
was  not  boasting  idly  when  he  said,  on  our  first  acquaint 
ance,  that  he  had  some  influence  in  literary  quarters.  He 
had  already  procured  for  me,  from  an  influential  magazine, 
propositions  for  articles  which  were  both  flattering  to  my 
pride  and  lucrative  in  the  remuneration.  In  this  way,  the 
prospect  of  my  yearly  income,  which  on  the  part  of  the 
"  Great  Democracy  "  was  so  very  inadequate,  was  enlarged 
to  a  very  respectable  figure. 

I  resolved,  therefore,  to  go  up  to  Bolton's  room  and  put 
this  letter  into  his  hands.  I  knocked  at  the  door,  but  no 
one  answering  I  opened  it  and  went  in.  He  was  not  there, 
but  an  odd  enough  scene  presented  itself  to  me.  The  little 
tow-headed,  freckled  boy,  that  I  had  formerly  remarked  as 
an  inmate  of  the  apartment,  was  seated  by  the  fire  with  a 
girl,  somewhat  younger  than  himself,  nursing  between  them 
a  large  fat  bundle  of  a  baby. 

"Hallo,"  said  I,  "what  have  we  here?  What  are  you 
doing  here  1 "  At  this  moment  —  before  the  children  could 
answer  —  I  heard  Bolton  coming  up  the  stairs.  He  en 
tered  the  room;  a  bright  color  mounted  to  his  cheeks  as  he 
saw  the  group  by  the  fire,  and  me. 

"Hallo,  Hal,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  conscious  laugh. 

"  Hallo,  Bolton !  "  said  I.  "  Have  you  got  a  foundling 
hospital  here  1 " 

"Oh,  well,  well,"  said  he;  "never  mind;  let  'em  stay 
there.  Do  you  want  anything  ?  There, "  said  he,  pulling 
a  package  of  buns  out  of  his  pocket,  "eat  those;  and  when 
the  baby  gets  asleep  you  can  lay  her  on  the  bed  in  the 
other  room.  And  there,"  —  to  the  boy,  — "you  read  this 
story  aloud  to  your  sister  when  the  baby  is  asleep.  And 
now,  Hal,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Suppose  I  come  down 
into  your  room  for  a  while  and  talk  1  " 

He  took  my  arm,  and  we  went  down  the  stairs  together; 


288  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

and  when  we  got  into  my  room  he  shut  the  door,  and  said, 
"The  fact  is,  Hal,  I  have  to  take  care  of  that  family  — 
my  washerwoman,  you  know.  Poor  Mrs.  Molloy,  she  has 
a  husband  that  about  once  a  month  makes  a  perfect  devil 
of  himself,  so  that  the  children  are  obliged  to  run  and  hide 
for  fear  of  their  lives.  And  then  she  has  got  the  way  of 
sending  them  to  me,  and  I  have  to  go  down  and  attend  to 
him." 

"Bless  me!"  said  I,  "why  will  women  live  with  such 
brutes?  Why  don't  you  make  her  separate  from  him? " 

Bolton  seated  himself  at  my  table,  and  leaned  back  in 
his  chair,  with  a  curious  expression  of  countenance,  very 
sad,  yet  not  without  a  touch  of  humor  in  it. 

"Well,  you  see,"  he  said,  "the  fact  is,  Hal,  she  loves 
him." 

"Well,  she  oughtn't  to  love  him,"  said  I. 

"Maybe  not;  but  she  does,"  said  he.  "She  loves  that 
poor 'Pat  Molloy  so  much  that  to  be  angry  with  him  is  just 
like  your  right  hand  being  angry  with  your  left  hand. 
Suppose  there  's  a  great  boil  on  the  left  hand,  what 's  the 
right  to  do  about  it  but  simply  bear  the  suffering  and  wait 
for  it  to  get  well  ?  That,  you  see,  is  love ;  and  because 
of  it,  you  can't  get  women  away  from  their  husbands. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

"But,"  said  I,  "it  is  perfectly  absurd  for  a  woman  to 
cling  to  such  a  man." 

"Well,"  said  Bolton,  "three  weeks  of  the  month  Pat 
Molloy  is  just  as  kind  and  tender  a  father  and  husband  as 
you  will  find,  and  then  by  the  fourth  week  comes  around 
his  drunken  spell,  and  he  's  a  devil.  Now  she  says,  '  Sure 
sir,  it's  the  drink.  It's  not  Pat  at  all,  sir;  he's  not 
himself,  sir.'  And  she  waits  till  it's  over  —  taking  care 
that  he  does  n't  kill  the  children.  Now,  shall  I  persuade 
her  to  let  him  go  to  the  devil  ?  Does  not  Jesus  Christ  say, 
1  Gather  up  the  fragments  that  nothing  be  lost '  ?  He  said 


COUSIN   CAROLINE   AGAIN  289 

it  about  a  basket  of  bread;  wouldn't  he  say  it  still  more 
about  the  fragments  of  the  human  soul1?  If  she  leaves 
Pat,  where  will  he  go  to  1  First,  to  some  harlot,  then  to 
murder,  and  the  gallows  —  and  that  gets  him  out  of  the 
way. " 

"Well,"  said  I,  "isn't  he  better  out  than  in?  " 

"Who  knows?"  said  Bolton.  "All  I  have  to  say  is, 
that  poor  Molly  Molloy,  with  her  broad  Irish  brogue,  and 
her  love  that  can't  be  tired,  and  can't  give  him  up,  and 
that  bears,  and  believes,  and  hopes,  and  endures,  seems  to 
me  a  revelation  of  the  Christ- like  spirit  a  thousand  times 
more  than  if  she  was  tramping  to  a  Woman's  Eights  Con 
vention,  and  exposing  her  wrongs,  and  calling  down  justice 
on  his  head." 

"But,"  said  I,  "look  at  the  children!  Oughtn't  she  to 
part  with  him  on  their  account  ?  " 

"Yes,  look  at  the  children,"  said  he.  "The  little  things 
have  learned  already,  from  their  mother,  to  care  for  each 
other,  and  to  care  for  their  father.  In  their  little  childish 
way,  they  love  and  bear  with  him  just  as  she  does.  The 
boy  came  to  me  this  afternoon  and  said,  '  Father  's  got  an 
other  crazy  spell. '  Already  he  has  a  delicacy  in  his  very 
mode  of  speaking;  and  he  doesn't  say  his  father  is  drunk, 
but  that  he  is  crazy,  as  he  is.  And  then  he  and  the  little 
girl  are  so  fatherly  and  motherly  with  the  baby.  Now, 
I  say,  all  this  growth  of  virtue  around  sin  and  sorrow  is 
something  to  be  revered.  The  fact  is,"  he  added,  "the 
day  for  separating  the  tares  from  the  wheat  hasn't  come 
yet.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  the  moral  discipline  of 
bearing  with  evil,  patiently,  is  a  great  deal  better  and 
more  ennobling  than  the  most  vigorous  assertion  of  one's 
personal  rights.  I  can  see  a  great  deal  of  suffering  in  that 
family  from  poor  Pat's  weakness  and  wickedness,  but  I 
also  see  most  noble  virtues  growing  up,  even  in  these  chil 
dren,  from  the  straits  to  which  they  are  put.  And  as  to 


290  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

poor  Pat  himself,  he  comes  out  of  his  demon-baptism  pen 
itent  and  humble,  and  more  anxious  to  please  than  ever. 
It  is  really  affecting  to  see  with  what  zeal  he  serves  me, 
when  I  have  brought  him  through  a  *  drunk. '  And  yet  I 
know  that  it  will  have  to  be  gone  over,  and  over,  and  over 
again.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  he  is  like  the  earth  after 
a  thunder-shower  —  fresher  and  clearer  than  he  was  before. 
And  I  am  quite  of  Mrs.  Molloy's  mind  —  there  is  too 
much  good  in  Pat  to  have  him  swept  off  into  the  gutter  for 
the  bad;  and  so,  as  God  gives  her  grace  to  suffer,  let  her 
suffer.  And  if  I  can  bear  one  little  end  of  her  cross,  I 
will.  If  she  does  not  save  him  in  this  life,  she  '11  save 
him  from  sinking  lower  in  demonism.  She  may  only  keep 
his  head  above  water  till  he  gets  past  the  gates1  of  death, 
and  then,  perhaps,  in  the  next  life,  he  will  appear  to  be 
saved  by  just  that  much  which  she  has  done  in  keeping 
him  up.7' 

Bolton  spoke  with  an  intense  earnestness,  and  a  sad  and 
solemn  tone,  as  if  he  were  shaken  and  almost  convulsed  by 
some  deep,  internal  feeling.  For  some  moments  there  was 
a  silence  between  us,  —  the  silence  of  a  great  unuttered 
emotion.  At  last  he  drew  a  long  breath,  and  said,  "Well, 
Hal,  what  was  it  you  wanted  to  talk  about  1 " 

"Oh,"  said  I,  "I  have  a  letter  from  a  friend  of  mine 
that  I  wanted  to  show  you,  to  see  whether  you  could  do 
anything,7'  and  I  gave  him  Caroline's  letter. 

He  sat  down  under  the  gaslight  to  read  it.  The  sight 
of  the  handwriting  seemed  to  affect  him  at  once.  His 
large  dark  eyes  flashed  over  the  letter,  and  he  turned  it 
quickly,  and  looked  at  the  signature;  a  most  unutterable 
expression  passed  over  his  face,  like  that  of  a  man  who  is 
in  danger  of  giving  way  to  some  violent  emotion ;  and  then, 
apparently  by  a  great  effort  of  self-constraint,  he  set  him 
self  carefully  to  reading  the  letter.  He  read  it  over  two 
or  three  times,  folded  it  up,  and  handed  it  back  to  me 


COUSIN   CAROLINE   AGAIN  291 

•without  any  remark,  and  then  sat  leaning  forward  on  the 
table  with  his  face  shaded  with  his  hand. 

"My  cousin  is  a  most  uncommon  character,"  I  said; 
"and,  as  you  will  observe  by  this  letter,  has  a  good  deal 
of  ability  as  a  writer." 

"I  am  acquainted  with  her,"  he  said  briefly,  making  a 
sudden  movement  with  his  hand. 

"  Indeed  1     Where  did  you  know  her  1 " 

"Years  ago,"  he  said  briefly.  "I  taught  the  Academy 
in  her  village,  and  she  was  one  of  my  scholars.  I  know 
the  character  of  her  mind." 

There  was  a  dry  brevity  in  all  this,  of  a  man  who  is 
afraid  that  he  shall  express  more  than  he  means  to. 

Said  I,  "I  showed  this  letter  to  you  because  I  thought 
you  had  more  influence  in  the  press  than  I  have;  and  if 
you  are  acquainted  with  her,  so  much  the  better,  as  you 
can  judge  whether  she  can  gain  any  employment  here 
which  Avould  make  it  worth  her  while  to  come  and  try.  I 
have  always  had  an  impression  that  she  had  very  fine  men 
tal  powers." 

"There  is  no  doubt  about  that,"  he  said  hurriedly. 
"She  is  an  exceptional  woman." 

He  rose  up,  and  took  the  letter  from  me.  "  If  you  will 
allow  me  to  retain  this  awhile,"  he  said,  "I  will  see  what 
I  can  do;  but  just  now  I  have  some  writing  to  finish.  I 
will  speak  to  you  about  it  to-morrow." 

That  evening  I  introduced  the  subject  to  my  friend,  Ida 
Van  Arsdel,  and  gave  her  a  sketch  of  Caroline's  life  his 
tory.  She  entered  into  it  with  the  warmest  interest,  and 
was  enthusiastic  in  her  desire  that  the  plan  might  succeed. 

"I  hope  that  she  will  come  to  New  York,"  she  said, 
"so  that  we  can  make  her  acquaintance.  Don't,  pray,  fail 
to  let  me  know,  Mr.  Henderson,  if  she  should  be  here, 
that  I  may  call  on  her." 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

EASTER    LILIES 

THE  next  afternoon  Jim  and  I  kept  our  appointment 
with  the  Van  Arsdels.  We  found  one  of  the  parlors  trans 
formed  to  a  perfect  bower  of  floral  decorations.  Stars  and 
wreaths  and  crosses  and  crowns  were  either  just  finished  or 
in  process  of  rapid  construction  under  fairy  fingers.  When 
I  came  in,  Eva  and  Alice  were  busy  on  a  gigantic  cross,  to 
be  made  entirely  of  lilies  of  the  valley,  of  which  some 
bushels  were  lying  around  on  the  carpet.  Ida  had  joined 
the  service,  and  was  kneeling  on  the  floor  tying  up  the 
flowers  in  bunches  to  offer  them  to  Eva. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Henderson,  the  difference  between  mod 
ern  religion  and  the  primitive  Christians,"  she  said. 
"Their  cross  was  rough  wood  and  hard  nails;  ours  is  lilies 
and  roses  made  up  in  fashionable  drawing-rooms." 

"I'm  afraid,"  said  Eva,  "our  crown  may  prove  much 
of  the  same  material!  " 

"I  sometimes  wonder,"  said  Ida,  "whether  all  the 
money  spent  for  flowers  at  Easter  could  not  better  be  spent 
in  some  mode  of  relieving  the  poor." 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  "I  am  sorry  to  bring  up  such  a  par 
allel,  but  isn't  that  just  the  same  kind  of  remark  that 
Judas  made  about  the  alabaster  vase  of  ointment  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "what  could  be  more  apparently  useless 
than  a  mere  perfume,  losing  itself  in  the  air,  and  vanishing 
entirely  ?  And  yet  the  Saviour  justified  that  lavish  expen 
diture  when  it  was  the  expression  of  a  heart-feeling." 

"But,"  said  Ida,  "don't  you  think  it  very  difficult  to 


EASTER   LILIES  293 

mark  the  line  where  these  services  and  offerings  to  religious 
worship  become  excessive  ?  " 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  I;  "but  no  more  difficult  on  this 
subject  than  any  other." 

"That 's  the  great  trouble  in  this  life,"  said  Eva.  "The 
line  between  right  and  wrong  seems  always  so  indefinite, 
like  the  line  between  any  two  colors  of  the  prism  —  it  is 
hard  to  say  just  where  one  ends  and  another  begins." 

"It  is  the  office  of  common  sense,"  I  said,  "to  get  the 
exact  right  in  all  such  matters  —  there  is  a  sort  of  instinct 
in  it." 

"Well,  all  I  have  to  say  about  it  is,"  said  Eva,  "since 
we  do  spend  lavishly  and  without  stint  in  our  houses  and 
in  our  dress  for  adornment,  we  ought  to  do  at  least  as  much 
for  our  religion.  I  like  to  see  the  adornment  of  a  church 
generous,  overflowing,  as  if  we  gave  our  very  best.  As  to 
these  lilies,  I  ordered  them  of  an  honest  gardener,  and  it 
goes  to  help  support  a  family  that  would  be  poor  if  it  were 
not  for  these  flowers.  It  is  better  to  support  one  or  two 
families  honestly,  by  buying  their  flowers  for  churches, 
than  it  is  to  give  the  money  away.  So  I  look  on  it." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Alice,  "there  is  no  end  to  anything. 
Everything  you  do  tends  to  something  else;  and  every 
thing  leads  to  something;  and  there  is  never  any  knowing 
about  anything ;  and  so  I  think  it  is  best  just  to  have  as 
good  a  time  as  you  can,  and  do  everything  that  is  agree 
able,  and  make  everything  just  as  pretty  as  it  can  be. 
And  I  think  it  is  fun  to  trim  up  the  church  for  Easter. 
There  now !  And  it  don't  do  any  harm.  And  I  just  like 
to  go  to  the  sunrise  service,  if  it  does  make  one  sleepy  all 
day.  "What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Fellows?  Do  you  think 
you  could  go  through  with  the  whole  of  it  ? " 

"Miss  Alice,  if  you  only  go  you  will  find  me  inspired 
with  the  spirit  of  a  primitive  Christian  in  this  respect," 
said  Jim.  "I  shall  follow  wherever  you  lead  the  way,  if 


294  MY    WIFE   AND    I 

it 's  ever  so  late  at  night,  or  ever  so  early  in  the  morn 
ing." 

"And,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said  she,  "may  we  depend  on 
you,  too  ? " 

"By  all  means,"  said  I,  as  I  sat  industriously  gathering 
up  the  lilies  into  bunches  and  tying  them. 

"Mr.  Henderson  is  in  a  hopeful  way,"  said  Eva.  "I 
think  we  may  have  him  in  the  true  Church  some  of  these 
times." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Ida,  "that  Mr.  Henderson,  having 
seen  you  only  in  Lent,  won't  be  able  to  keep  track  of  you 
when  the  Easter  rejoicings  begin  and  the  parties  recom 
mence." 

"Oh,  dear  me!  "  said  Eva,  with  a  sort  of  shudder.  "To 
think  of  that  horrid  wedding ! " 

"That 's  just  like  Eva,"  said  Alice.  "She  's  been,  and 
been,  and  been  to  these  things  till  she  's  tired  out  with 
them;  whereas,  I  am  just  come  out,  and  I  like  them,  and 
want  more  of  them.  I  don't  think  they  are  horrid  at  all. 
I  am  perfectly  delighted  about  that  Elmore  wedding.  One 
will  see  there  all  the  new  things,  and  all  the  stunning 
things,  and  all  the  latest  devices  from  Paris.  I  was  in  at 
Tullegig's  the  other  day,  and  you  never  saw  such  a  sight 
as  her  rooms  are !  Somebody  said  it  looked  as  if  rainbows 
had  been  broken  to  pieces  and  thrown  all  round.  She 
showed  me  all  the  different  costumes  that  she  was  making 
up  for  the  various  parties.  You  know  there  are  to  be 
seven  bridesmaids,  and  each  of  them  is  to  wear  a  differ 
ent  color.  Madame  thinks  '  C'est  si  gentil. '  Then,  you 
know,  they  are  making  such  grand  preparations  up  at  that 
chateau  of  theirs.  The  whole  garden  is  to  be  roofed  in 
and  made  a  ballroom  of.  I  think  it  will  be  gorgeous.  I 
say,  Mr.  Fellows,  if  you  and  Mr.  Henderson  would  like 
it,  I  know  I  could  manage  cards  for  you." 

Jim  assented  heartily  for  both  of  us;  and  I  added  that 


EASTER   LILIES  295 

I  should  like  to  see  the  affair;  for  I  had  never  seen  enough 
of  that  sort  of  thing  to  take  away  the  novelty. 

After  tea  we  all  sallied  out  to  the  church  with  our  tro 
phies.  We  went  in  two  carriages,  for  the  better  accommo 
dation  of  these,  and  had  a  busy  time  disembarking  at  the 
church  and  carrying  them  in.  Here  we  met  a  large  com 
mittee  of  co-workers,  and  the  scene  of  real  business  com 
menced.  Jim  and  I  worked  heroically  under  the  direction 
of  our  fair  superintendents.  By  midnight  the  church  was 
a  bower  of  fragrance  and  beauty.  The  chancel  seemed  a 
perfect  bed  of  lilies,  out  of  which  rose  the  great  white 
cross,  shedding  perfume  upon  the  air.  The  baptismal  font 
was  covered  with  a  closely  woven  mosaic  of  fragrant  vio 
lets,  and  in  each  panel  appeared  an  alternate  red  or  white 
cross  formed  of  flowers.  The  font  was  filled  with  a  tall 
bouquet  of  white  saint' s-lilies,  such  as  gardeners  force  for 
Easter. 

Eva  and  I  worked  side  by  side  this  evening,  and  never 
had  I  seemed  to  know  her  more  intimately.  The  fact  is, 
among  other  dangerous  situations  to  a  young  man's  heart, 
none  may  be  mentioned  more  seductive  than  to  be  in  a 
church  twining  flowers  and  sorting  crosses  and  emblems  in 
the  still  holy  hours  of  the  night.  One's  head  gets,  some 
how,  bewildered;  all  worldly  boundaries  of  cold  prudence 
fade  away;  and  one  seems  to  be  lifted  up  to  some  other 
kind  of  land  where  those  that  are  congenial  never  part  from 
each  other.  So  I  felt  when,  our  work  being  all  done,  I 
retired  with  Eva  to  the  shadow  of  a  distant  pew  to  survey 
the  whole  result.  We  had  turned  on  the  gaslight  to  show 
our  work,  and  its  beams,  falling  on  thousands  of  these 
white  lily-bells  and  on  all  the  sacred  emblems,  shed  a  sort 
of  chastened  light.  Again,  somehow,  as  if  it  had  been  a 
rose-leaf  floating  down  from  heaven,  I  found  that  little 
hand  in  mine;  and  we  spoke  low  to  each  other,  in  whis 
pers,  of  how  good  and  how  pleasant  it  was  to  be  there,  and 


296  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

to  unite  in  such  service  and  work  —  words  that  meant  far 
more  than  they  seemed  to  say.  Once,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening,  I  saw  her  little  glove  where  it  had  fallen  into  a 
nest  of  cast-off  flowers,  and,  as  no  one  was  looking,  I 
seized  upon  it  as  a  relic,  and  appropriated  it  to  my  own 
sacred  memories.  Nor  would  I  surrender  it,  though  after 
ward  I  heard  her  making  pathetic  inquiries  for  it.  Late 
at  night  I  went  home  to  think  and  dream,  and  woke  with 
the  first  dim  gray  of  morning,  thinking  of  my  appointment 
to  meet  her  at  the  church. 

It  is  a  charming  thing  to  go  out  in  the  fresh  calm  morn 
ing  before  any  one  is  stirring.  The  bells  for  early  service 
were  dropping  their  notes  here  and  there,  down  through 
the  air,  as  if  angels  were  calling  men  to  awake  and  remem 
ber  that  great  event  which  happened  so  silently  and  so  un 
regarded,  many,  many  years  ago.  I  thought  as  I  walked 
through  the  dim  streets  and  saw  here  and  there  an  early 
worshiper,  Prayer-Book  in  hand,  stealing  along,  of  the 
lonely  women  who,  years  ago,  in  Jerusalem,  sought  the 
sepulchre  to  see  where  they  had  laid  Him. 

Little  twittering  sparrows  filled  the  ivy  on  the  outside 
of  the  church  and  made  it  vibrate  with  their  chirpings. 
There  was  the  promise  in  the  brightening  skies  of  a  glori 
ous  sunrise.  I  stood  waiting  awhile,  quite  alone,  till  one 
by  one  the  bands  of  youths  and  maidens  came  from  differ 
ent  directions. 

I  had  called  Jim  as  I  went  out,  but  he,  preferring  to 
take  the  utmost  latitude  for  sleep,  looked  at  his  watch  and 
told  me  he  would  take  another  half  hour  before  he  joined 
us.  Eva  was  there,  however,  among  the  very  first.  The 
girls,  she  said,  were  coming.  We  went  into  the  dim 
church  together  and  sat  ourselves  down  in  the  shady  soli 
tude  of  one  of  the  slips,  waiting  for  the  morning  light  to 
pour  through  the  painted  windows.  We  said  nothing  to 
each  other;  but  the  silence  was  sociable  and  not  blank. 


EASTER   LILIES  297 

There  are  times  in  life  when  silence  between  two  friends  is 
better  than  speech;  for  they  know  each  other  by  intuition. 

Gradually  the  church  filled  with  worshipers;  and  as  the 
rising  sun  streamed  through  the  painted  windows  and 
touched  all  the  lilies  with  brightness,  a  choir  of  children 
in  the  organ-loft  broke  forth  into  carols  like  so  many  in 
visible  birds.  And  then,  the  old  chant :  — 

"  Christ,  being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth  no  more," 
seemed  to  thrill  every  heart. 

After  the  service  came  a  general  shaking  of  hands  and 
greetings  from  neighbors  and  friends,  as  everybody  walked 
round  examining  the  decorations. 

"]STow,  Mr.  Henderson,"  said  Eva,  as  she  stood  with 
me  surveying  this  scene,  "  is  not  a  Church  which  preserves 
all  these  historical  memorials  a  most  lovely  one?  Ought 
we  not  thus  to  cherish  the  memory  of  that  greatest  event 
that  ever  happened  in  this  world  ?  And  how  beautiful  it 
is  to  bring  up  children  year  after  year  by  festivals  like 
these,  to  mark  off  their  life  in  acts  of  remembrance." 

"You  speak  truly,"  I  said,  sharing  her  enthusiasm.  "I 
could  wish  the  Church  of  all  good  people  had  never  ceased 
to  keep  Easter;  indeed,  they  who  do  disregard  it  seem  to 
me  a  cold  minority  out  of  the  great  fellowship.  I  think  it 
is  fortunate  that  the  Komish  and  the  Episcopal  churches  are 
bringing  us,  descendants  of  the  Puritans,  back  to  those  primi 
tive  customs.  I,  for  one,  come  back  willingly  and  joyfully." 

[Eva  Van  Arsdel  to  Isabel  Convers.] 

MY  DAKLIXG  BELLE,  —  I  have  been  a  naughty  girl  to  let 
your  letter  lie  so  long.  But  my  darling,  it  is  not  true,  as 
you  there  suggest,  that  the  bonds  of  sisterly  affection, 
which  bound  us  in  school,  are  growing  weaker,  and  that  I 
no  longer  trust  you  as  a  confidential  friend.  Believe  me, 
the  day  will  never  come,  dearest  Belle,  when  I  shall  cease 
to  unfold  to  you  every  innermost  feeling. 


298  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

And  now  to  come  to  the  point  about  "that  Mr.  Hender 
son."  Indeed,  my  love,  your  cautions  are  greatly  mis 
taken.  It  is  true  that,  much  to  my  surprise,  he  has  taken 
a  fancy  to  visit  quite  intimately  at  our  house,  and  has  made 
himself  a  general  favorite  in  the  family.  Mamma,  and 
Aunt  Maria,  and  all  the  girls  like  him  so  much.  But, 
then,  you  must  know  he  is  generally  set  down  as  Ida's 
admirer.  At  all  events,  Ida  and  he  are  extremely  good 
friends;  and  when  he  calls  here  he  generally  spends  the 
largest  part  of  the  evening  in  her  sanctum;  and  they  have 
most  edifying  conversations  on  all  the  approved  modern 
topics  —  the  Darwinian  theory,  Woman's  Eights,  and  every 
thing  else  you  can  think  of.  One  thing  I  admit  is  a  little 
peculiar  —  he  notices  everything  that  /  say  in  conversation 
—  I  must  own.  I  never  saw  such  an  observing  creature. 
For  example,  the  first  evening  he  was  at  our  house,  I  just 
accidentally  dropped  before  him  the  remark  that  I  was 
going  to  early  morning  services  in  Lent,  and  would  you 
believe  it  ?  —  the  next  morning  he  was  there,  too,  and 
walked  home  with  me.  I  was  the  more  astonished  because 
he  does  not  belong  to  the  Church  —  so  one  would  not  ex 
pect  it,  you  know.  He  is  a  member  of  the  Bethany  Church 
himself,  but  he  seems  delighted  with  our  services,  and 
talks  about  them  beautifully  —  as  well  as  our  rector  could. 
I  really  wish  you  could  have  heard  him!  He  seems  to 
have  such  an  earnest,  thoughtful  mind;  and  what  I  like 
in  him  is,  that  he  never  flatters,  and  talks  that  matter-of- 
course  complimentary  nonsense  that  some  men  think  is  the 
thing  to  be  talked  to  ladies;  neither  has  he  that  way  of 
talking  down  to  one  that  superior  men  sometimes  have 
when  they  are  talking  with  us  girls.  I  read  somewhere 
this  sentiment  —  that  we  may  know  the  opinion  people 
have  of  us  by  the  kind  of  conversation  they  address  to  us: 
and  if  this  is  so  I  ought  to  be  flattered  by  the  way  Mr. 
Henderson  talks  to  me;  for  I  think  he  shows  quite  as 


EASTER   LILIES  299 

much  anxiety  to  find  out  my  opinion  on  all  subjects  as  he 
does  Ida's.  You  will,  perhaps,  think  it  rather  peculiar  if 
I  tell  you  that  ever  since  that  first  morning  he  has  been  as 
constant  at  the  morning  services  as  I  have,  and  always 
walks  home  \vith  me.  In  this  way  we  really  are  getting 
quite  intimately  acquainted.  Now,  Belle,  don't  put  on 
that  knowing  look  of  yours,  and  intimate  that  there  is  any 
thing  particular  in  all  this,  for  there  is  not.  I  do  assure 
you  there  is  not  a  bit  of  nonsense  in  it.  You  would  be 
perfectly  astonished  to  hear  how  gravely  and  philosophi 
cally  we  talk.  We  moralize  and  philosophize,  and  as  Jim 
Fellows  would  say,  "  come  the  high  moral  dodge "  in  a 
way  that  would  astonish  you. 

And  yet,  Belle,  they  wrong  us  who  are  called  fashion 
able  girls  when  they  take  for  granted  that  we  are  not 
capable  of  thinking  seriously,  and  that  we  prefer  those 
whose  conversation  consists  only  of  flattery  and  nonsense. 
It  is  mainly  because  I  feel  that  Mr.  Henderson  has  deep, 
serious  purposes  in  life,  and  because  he  appreciates  and 
addresses  himself  to  the  deepest  part  of  my  nature,  that  his 
friendship  is  so  valuable  to  me.  I  say  friendship  ad 
visedly,  dear  Belle,  because  I  insist  upon  it  that  there  can 
be  friendship,  pure  and  simple,  between  a  gentleman  and 
a  lady;  in  our  case  there  is  "only  this  and  nothing  more." 

How  very  teasing  and  provoking  it  is  that  there  cannot 
be  this  friendship  without  observation  and  comment !  Now 
I  am  very  careful  to  avoid  any  outward  appearance  of  spe 
cial  intimacy  that  might  make  talk,  and  he  appears  to  be 
very  careful  also.  After  the  first  day  at  morning  service 
he  did  not  join  me  immediately  on  going  out  of  church, 
but  went  out  at  another  door  and  joined  me  at  the  next 
corner.  I  was  so  thankful  for  it,  for  old  Mrs.  Eyelett  was 
there  with  her  sharp  eyes,  and  I  know  by  experience  that 
though  she  is  a  pillar  of  the  Church  she  finds  abundance  of 
leisure  from  her  devotions  to  watch  all  the  lambs  of  the 


300  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

flock ;  and  I  am  one  that  everybody  seems  to  keep  specially 
in  mind  as  proper  to  be  looked  after.  If  I  only  speak  to, 
or  look  at,  or  walk  with  the  same  person  more  than  once, 
the  airy  tongues  of  rumor  are  busy  engaging  and  marrying 
me.  Isn't  it  horrid?  I  would  not  have  old  Mrs.  Eyelett 
get  anything  of  this  sort  into  her  head  for  the  world;  it 's 
so  disagreeable  to  have  such  a  thing  get  to  a  gentleman's 
hearing  when  he  knows  there  is  no  truth  in  it;  and  the 
world  has  condescended  to  interest  itself  so  much  in  my 
fortunes  that  it  seems  dangerous  for  anybody  to  be  more 
than  civil  without  being  set  down  as  an  aspirant. 

The  only  comfort  there  is  in  being  persistently  reported 
engaged  to  Mr.  Sydney  is  that  it  serves  to  keep  off  other 
reports,  and  I  sometimes  think  of  the  old  fable  of  the  fox 
who  would  not  have  the  present  swarm  of  flies  driven  off 
lest  there  should  come  a  new  one  in  its  place.  How  I 
wish  people  would  let  one's  private  affairs  alone!  Here 
I  must  break  off,  for  there  is  company  downstairs. 

Wednesday  Eve. 

I  have  let  this  thing  lie  some  days,  dear  Belle,  because 
there  has  been  so  much  going  and  coming  time  has  flitted 
away.  Mr.  H.  has  been  at  our  house  a  good  deal.  I  have 
made  a  discovery  about  him.  He  has  a  beautiful  cousin 
that  he  thinks  everything  of  —  "  Cousin  Caroline  "  —  and 
she  is  a  very  superior  woman.  So  you  see  how  silly  all 
your  suggestions  are,  Belle.  Tor  aught  I  know  he  may 
be  engaged  to  this  Cousin  Caroline.  I  believe  she  is  com 
ing  to  New  York,  and  I  am  just  wild  to  see  her.  You 
know  I  want  to  see  if  I  shall  like  her.  She  must  be  just 
the  thing  for  him ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  like  her.  Ida  thinks 
she  shall.  Aunt  Maria,  who  wants  to  portion  off  the  fate 
of  mortals,  has  made  up  her  mind  that  Mr.  H.  must  be  an 
admirer  of  Ida's;  and,  in  short,  that  they  are  to  be  for  each 
other. 


EASTER   LILIES  301 

Ida  looks  down  on  all  this  sort  of  thing  with  her  placid 
superiority.  She  has  a  perfect  contempt  for  it,  so  very 
perfect  that  it  is  quiet.  She  does  not  even  trouble  herself 
to  express  it.  Ida  likes  Mr.  H.  very  much,  and  has  a 
straightforward,  open,  honest  friendship  with  him,  and 
doesn't  trouble  her  head  a  bit  what  people  may  say. 

Saturday  Morning. 

We  are  all  busy  now  about  Easter  decorations.  We 
have  ordered  no  end  of  flowers,  and  are  going  into  adorn 
ments  on  a  great  scale.  We  press  all  hands  in  that  we 
can  get.  Mr.  Henderson  and  Jim  Fellows  are  coming  to 
night  to  tea  to  help  us  carry  our  things  to  church  and  get 
them  up. 

Monday  Morning. 

I  am  so  tired.  We  were  up  nearly  all  night  Saturday, 
and  then  at  the  sunrise  service  Easter  morning,  and  ser 
vices  all  day.  Beautiful !  Lovely  as  they  could  be  !  But 
if  one  has  a  good  time  in  this  world  one  must  pay  for  it 
—  and  I  am  all  tired  out. 

Mr.  Henderson  was  with  us  through  the  whole  affair. 
One  thing  seemed  to  me  quite  strange.  I  dropped  my 
glove  among  some  flowers  while  I  was  busy  putting  up  a 
wreath  of  lilies,  and  I  saw  him  through  a  bower  of  hem 
lock-trees  walk  up  to  the  spot,  and  slyly  confiscate  the 
article.  In  a  moment  I  came  back,  and  said,  "I  dropped 
my  glove  here.  Where  can  it  be  ?  "  The  wretched  crea 
ture  helped  me  search  for  it  with  every  appearance  of  in 
terest,  but  never  offered  to  restore  the  stolen  goods.  It 
was  all  so  quiet  —  so  private !  You  know,  gentlemen  often 
pretend,  as  a  matter  of  gallantry,  that  they  want  your 
glove,  or  a  ribbon,  or  some  such  memento ;  but  this  was  all 
so  secret.  He  evidently  thinks  I  don't  know  it;  and, 
Belle  —  what  should  you  think  about  it  ? 

EVA. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

ENCHANTMENT  AND  DISENCHANTMENT 

DUKING  a  month  after  Easter  I  was,  so  to  speak,  in  a 
state  of  mental  somnambulism,  seeing  the  visible  things  of 
this  mortal  life  through  an  enchanted  medium,  in  which 
old,  prosaic,  bustling  New  York,  with  its  dry  drudgeries 
and  uninteresting  details,  became  suddenly  vivified  and 
glorified;  just  as  when  some  rosy  sunset  floods  with  light 
the  matter-of-fact  architecture  of  Printing-House  Square, 
and  etherealizes  every  line,  and  guides  every  detail,  and 
heightens  every  bit  of  color,  till  it  all  seems  picturesque 
and  beautiful. 

I  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter  with  me,  but  I  felt 
somehow  as  if  I  had  taken  the  elixir  of  life  and  was  breath 
ing  the  air  of  an  immortal  youth.  Whenever  I  sat  down 
to  write  I  found  my  inspiration.  I  no  longer  felt  myself 
alone  in  my  thoughts  and  speculations;  I  wrote  to  another 
mind,  a  mind  that  I  felt  would  recognize  mine ;  and  then 
I  carried  what  I  had  written,  and  read  it  to  Ida  Van  Arsdel 
for  her  criticisms.  Ida  was  a  capital  critic,  and  had  gra 
ciously  expressed  her  willingness  and  desire  to  aid  me  in 
this  way,  to  any  extent.  But  was  it  Ida  who  was  my  in 
spiration  ? 

Sitting  by,  bent  over  her  embroidery,  or  coming  in  acci 
dentally  and  sitting  down  to  listen,  was  Eva;  full  of 
thought,  full  of  inquiry;  sometimes  gay  and  airy,  some 
times  captious  and  controversial  —  always  suggestive  and 
inspiring.  From  these  readings  grew  talks  protracted  and 
confidential,  on  all  manner  of  subjects;  and  each  talk  was 


ENCHANTMENT   AND   DISENCHANTMENT  303 

the  happy  parent  of  more  talks,  till  it  seemed  that  there 
was  growing  up  an  endless  series  of  occasions  for  our  hav 
ing  long  and  exciting  interviews;  for  what  was  said  yes 
terday,  in  the  reflections  and  fancies  of  the  night  following, 
immediately  blossomed  out  into  queries  and  consequences 
and  inferences  on  both  sides,  which  it  was  immediately  and 
pressingly  necessary  that  we  should  meet  to  compare  and 
adjust.  Now,  when  two  people  are  in  this  state  of  mind, 
it  is  surprising  what  a  number  of  providential  incidents  are 
always  bringing  them  together.  It  was  perfectly  astonish 
ing  to  us  both  to  find  how  many  purely  accidental  inter 
views  we  had.  If  I  went  out  for  a  walk,  I  was  sure,  first 
or  last,  to  meet  her.  To  be  sure,  I  took  to  walking  very 
much  in  streets  and  squares  where  I  had  observed  she 
might  be  expected  to  appear;  but  that  did  not  make  the 
matter  seem  to  me  the  less  unpremeditated. 

I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  daily  constitutional 
stroll  in  Central  Park,  and  the  Van  Arsdels  were  in  the 
habit  of  driving  there  at  orthodox  fashionable  hours.  In 
time,  it  seemed  to  happen  that  this  afternoon  stroll  of  mine 
always  brought  forth  the  happy  fruit  of  a  pleasant  inter 
view.  There  was  no  labyrinth  or  bower  or  summer-house, 
no  dingle  or  bosky  dell,  so  retired  that  I  did  not  find  it 
occasionally  haunted  by  the  presence  of  this  dryad.  True 
she  was  not  there  alone  —  sometimes  with  Ida,  sometimes 
with  Alice,  or  with  a  lively  bevy  of  friends;  but  it  made 
no  difference  with  whom  so  long  as  she  was  there. 

The  many  sins  of  omission  and  commission  of  which  the 
City  Fathers  of  New  York  are  accused  are,  I  think,  won 
derfully  redeemed  and  covered  by  the  beauties  of  the  pro 
vision  for  humanity  which  they  have  made  in  Central  Park. 
Having  seen  every  park  in  the  world,  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  glorify  our  own,  as  providing  as  much  beauty  and  cheap 
pleasure  as  can  anywhere  be  found  under  the  sun. 

Especially  ought  all  lovers  par  excellence  to  crown  the 


304  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

projectors  and  executors  of  this  Park  with  unfading  wreaths 
of  olive  and  myrtle.  It  is  so  evidently  adapted  to  all  the 
purposes  of  falling  in  love  and  keeping  in  love  that  the 
only  wonder  is  that  any  one  can  remain  a  bachelor  in  pre 
sence  of  such  advantages  and  privileges !  There  is  all  the 
peacefulness,  all  the  seclusion,  all  the  innocent  wildness 
of  a  country  Arcadia,  given  for  the  price  of  a  five  cents' 
ride  in  the  cars  to  any  citizen  who  chooses  to  be  made 
moral  and  innocent. 

The  Central  Park  is  an  immortal  poem,  forever  address 
ing  itself  to  the  eye  and  ear  in  the  whirl  and  bubble  of 
that  hot  and  bewildered  city.  It  is  a  Wordsworth  immor 
talized  and  made  permanent,  preaching  to  the  citizens. 

"  One  impulse  from  a  vernal  mood 
May  teach  you  more  of  man  — 
Of  moral  evil,  and  of  good  — 
Than  all  the  sages  can." 

Certainly  during  this  one  season  of  my  life  I  did  full 
justice  to  the  beauties  of  Central  Park.  There  wras  not  a 
nook  or  corner  where  wild  flowers  unfolded,  where  white- 
stemmed  birches  leaned  over  still  waters,  or  ivies  clambered 
over  grottoed  rocks,  which  I  did  not  explore;  and  when  in 
the  winding  walks  of  "the  Ramble  "  I  caught  distant  sight 
of  a  white  drapery,  or  heard  through  budding  thickets  the 
silvery  sounds  of  laughing  and  talking,  I  knew  I  was  com 
ing  on  one  of  those  pleasant  surprises  for  which  the  Park 
grounds  are  so  nicely  arranged. 

Sometimes  Eva  would  come  with  a  carriage  full  of  chil 
dren,  and  with  the  gay  little  fairies  would  pass  a  sunny 
afternoon,  swinging  them,  watching  them  riding  in  the 
little  goat-carriages,  or  otherwise  presiding  over  their  gaye- 
ties.  We  had,  under  these  circumstances,  all  the  advantage 
of  a  tete-a-tete  without  any  of  the  responsibility  of  seeking 
or  prolonging  it.  In  fact,  the  presence  of  others  was  a 
salvo  to  my  conscience,  and  to  public  appearance,  for,  look- 


ENCHANTMENT    AND   DISENCHANTMENT  305 

ing  on  Eva  as  engaged  to  another,  I  was  very  careful  not 
to  go  over  a  certain  line  of  appearances  in  my  relations  to 
her.  My  reason  told  me  that  I  was  upon  dangerous 
ground  for  my  own  peace,  but  I  quieted  reason,  as  young 
men  in  my  circumstances  generally  do,  by  the  best  of  argu 
ments. 

I  said  to  myself  that,  "  >To  matter  if  she  were  engaged, 
why  shouldn't  I  worship  at  her  shrine,  and  cherish  her 
image  as  Dante  did  that  of  Beatrice,  and  Tasso  that  of 
Eleanora  d'  Este  ?  "  and  so  on. 

"To  be  sure,"  I  reflected,  "this  thing  can  never  come  to 
anything;  of  course  she  never  can  be  anything  to  you  more 
than  a  star  in  the  heavens.  But,"  I  said  in  reply,  "she  is 
mine  to  worship  and  adore  with  the  worship  that  we  give 
to  all  beautiful  things.  She  is  mine  as  are  fair  flowers, 
and  the  blue  skies,  and  the  bright  sunshine,  which  cheer 
and  inspire." 

I  was  conscious  that  I  had  in  my  own  most  sacred  recep 
tacle  at  home  a  little  fairy  glove  that  she  had  dropped,  to 
which  I  had  no  claim;  but  I  said  to  myself,  "When  a 
leaf  falls  from  the  rose,  who  shall  say  that  I  shall  not 
gather  it  up  1 "  So,  too,  I  had  one  of  those  wonderful,  use 
less  little  bits  of  fairy  gossamer,  which  Eve's  daughters  call 
a  "pocket-handkerchief."  I  had  yet  so  little  sense  of  sin 
that  I  stole  that  too,  kept  the  precious  theft  folded  in  my 
Prayer-Book,  and  thought  she  would  never  know  it.  I  be 
gan  to  understand  the  efficacy  that  is  ascribed  to  holy  relics, 
for  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  ever  any  deadly  trouble  or  trial 
should  come  upon  me,  I  would  lay  these  little  things  upon 
my  heart,  and  they  would  comfort  me. 

And  yet,  all  this  while,  I  solemnly  told  myself  I  was 
not  in  love,  —  oh,  no,  not  in  the  least.  This  was  friend 
ship —  the  very  condensed,  distilled  essence  of  friendship, 
that  and  nothing  more.  To  be  sure,  it  was  friendship  set 
to  a  heroic  key  —  friendship  of  a  rare  quality.  I  longed 


306  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

to  do  something  for  her,  and  often  thought  how  glad  I 
would  be  to  give  my  life  for  her.  Having  a  very  active 
imagination,  sometimes  as  I  lay  awake  at  night  I  perpe 
trated  all  sorts  of  confusions  in  the  city  of  New  York,  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  giving  myself  an  opportunity  to  do 
something  for  her.  I  set  fire  to  the  Van  Arsdel  mansion 
several  times,  in  different  ways,  and,  rushing  in,  bore  her 
through  the  flames.  I  inaugurated  a  horrible  plot  against 
the  life  of  her  father,  and  rushing  in  at  the  critical  mo 
ment,  delivered  the  old  gentleman  that  I  might  revel  in 
her  delight.  I  became  suddenly  a  millionaire  by  the  death 
of  a  supposititious  uncle  in  the  East  Indies,  and  immedi 
ately  proceeded  to  lay  all  my  treasures  at  her  feet. 

As  for  Mr.  Wat  Sydney,  it  is  incredible  the  resignation 
with  which  I  saw  him  shipwrecked,  upset  in  stages, 
crushed  in  railroad  accidents,  while  I  appeared  on  the  scene 
as  the  consoling  friend;  not  that  I  had,  of  course,  any  pur 
pose  of  causing  such  catastrophes,  but  there  was  a  degree 
of  resignation  attending  the  view  of  them  that  was  sooth 
ing.  I  had  in  my  heart  a  perfect  certainty  that  Sydney 
was  unworthy  of  her,  but  of  course  racks  and  thumbscrews 
should  not  draw  from  me  the  slightest  intimation  of  the 
kind  in  her  presence. 

So  matters  went  on  for  some  weeks.  But  sometimes  it 
happens,  when  a  young  fellow  has  long  wandered  in  a  beau 
tiful  dream  of  this  kind,  a  sudden  and  harsh  light  of  reality 
and  of  common-sense,  every-day  life  is  thrown  upon  him 
in  an  unforeseen  moment;  and  this  moment  at  last  arrived 
for  me. 

One  evening,  when  I  dropped  in  for  a  call  at  the  Van 
Arsdel  mansion,  the  young  ladies  were  all  out  at  a  concert, 
but  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  was  at  home,  and  for  some  reason 
unusually  bland  and  motherly. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Henderson,"  she  said,  "it  is  rather  hard 
on  you  to  be  obliged  to  accept  an  old  woman  like  me  as 


ENCHANTMENT   AND   DISENCHANTMENT  307 

a  substitute  for  youth  and  beauty;  but  really,  I  am  not 
sorry,  on  the  Avhole,  that  the  girls  are  out,  for  I  would  like 
a  little  chance  of  having  a  free,  confidential  talk  with  you. 
Your  relations  with  us  have  been  so  intimate  and  kindly, 
I  feel,  you  know,  quite  as  if  you  were  one  of  us." 

I  replied,  of  course,  that  "I  was  extremely  flattered  and 
gratified  by  her  kindness,"  and  assured  her  with  effusion, 
and,  if  I  mistake  not,  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  that  "  she  had 
made  me  forget  that  I  was  a  stranger  in  New  York,  and 
that  I  should  always  cherish  the  most  undying  recollection 
of  the  kindness  that  I  had  received  in  her  family  and  of 
the  pleasant  hours  I  had  spent  there." 

"Ah,  yes,  indeed,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Henderson,  it  is 
pleasant  to  me  to  think  that  you  feel  so.  I  like  to  give 
young  men  a  home  feeling.  But  after  all,"  she  continued, 
"one  feels  a  little  pensive  once  in  a  while,  in  thinking  that 
one  cannot  always  keep  the  home  circle  unbroken.  Indeed, 
I  never  could  see  how  some  mothers  could  seem  to  rejoice 
as  they  do  in  the  engagement  of  their  daughters.  There 
is  Mrs.  Elmore,  now,  her  feelings  are  perfectly  inexplicable 
to  me." 

I  assured  her  that  I  was  quite  of  her  way  of  thinking, 
and  agreed  with  her  perfectly. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "as  the  time  comes  on  when  I  begin 
to  think  of  parting  with  Eva,  though  to  the  very  best  man 
in  the  world,  do  you  know,  Mr.  Henderson,  it  really  makes 
me  feel  sad  ?  " 

I  began  at  this  moment  to  find  the  drift  of  the  conversa 
tion  becoming  very  embarrassing  and  disagreeable  to  me, 
but  I  mustered  my  energies  to  keep  up  my  share  in  it  with 
a  becoming  degree  of  interest. 

"I  am  to  understand,  then,"  said  I,  forcing  a  smile, 
"that  Miss  Eva's  engagement  with  Mr.  Sydney  is  a  settled 
fact?" 

"Well,   virtually  so,"  she  replied.      "Eva  is  averse  to 


308  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

the  publicity  of  public  announcements;  but  —  you  know 
how  it  is,  Mr.  Henderson,  there  are  relations  which  amount 
to  the  same  thing  as  an  engagement."  Here  Mrs.  Van 
Arsdel  leaned  back  on  the  sofa  and  drew  a  letter  from  her 
pocket,  while  the  words  of  my  part  of  the  conversation  did 
not  seem  to  be  forthcoming.  I  sat  in  embarrassed  silence. 

"The  fact  is,  Mr.  Henderson,"  she  said,  settling  the 
diamonds  and  emeralds  on  her  white,  shapely  fingers,  "I 
have  received  a  letter  to-day  from  Mr.  Sydney,  —  he  is  a 
noble  fellow,"  she  added,  with  empressement. 

I  secretly  wished  the  noble  fellow  at  Kamtschatka,  but 
I  said,  in  sympathetic  tones,  "Ah,  indeed?"  as  if  waiting 
for  the  farther  communication  which  I  perceived  she  was 
determined  to  bestow  on  me. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "he  is  coming  to  New  York  in  a  short 
time,  and  then,  I  suppose,  there  is  no  doubt  that  all  will 
be  finally  arranged.  I  confess  to  you  I  have  the  weakness 
to  feel  a  little  depressed  about  it.  Did  you  ever  read  Jean 
Ingelow's  '  Songs  of  Seven,'  Mr.  Henderson1?  I  think  she 
touches  so  beautifully  on  the  trials  of  mothers  in  giving 
up  their  daughters." 

I  said,  "I  only  trust  that  Mr.  Sydney  is  in  some  degree 
worthy  of  Miss  Van  Arsdel;  though,"  I  added  with 
warmth,  "no  man  can  be  wholly  so." 

"Eva  is  a  good  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  "and  I 
must  confess  that  the  parting  from  her  will  be  the  greatest 
trial  of  my  life.  But  I  thought  I  would  let  you  know  how 
matters  stood,  because  of  the  very  great  confidence  which 
we  feel  in  you." 

I  found  presence  of  mind  to  acknowledge  politely  my 
sense  of  the  honor  conferred.  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  continued 
playing  prettily  with  her  rings. 

"  One  thing  more  perhaps  I  ought  to  say,  Mr.  Hender 
son  :  while  your  intimacy  in  our  family  is  and  has  been  quite 
what  I  desire,  yet  you  know  people  are  so  absurd,  and  will 


ENCHANTMENT   AND   DISENCHANTMENT  309 

say  such  absurd  things,  that  it  might  not  be  out  of  the  way 
to  suggest  a  little  caution;  you  know  one  wouldn't  want 
to  give  rise  to  any  reports  that  might  be  unpleasant  —  any 
thing,  you  know,  that  might  reach  Mr.  Sydney's  ear  — 
you  understand  me." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Yan  Arsdel,  is  it  possible  that  anything 
has  been  said  ?  " 

"Now,  now,  don't  agitate  yourself,  Mr.  Henderson;  I 
know  what  you  are  going  to  say  —  no,  nothing  of  the  kind. 
But  you  know  that  we  elderly  people,  who  know  the  world 
and  just  what  stupid  and  unreasonable  things  people  are 
always  saying,  sometimes  have  to  give  you  young  folks 
just  the  slightest  little  caution.  Your  conduct  in  this 
family  has  been  all  that  is  honorable,  and  gentlemanly, 
and  unexceptionable,  Mr.  Henderson,  and  such  as  would 
lead  us  to  repose  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  you.  In 
fact,  I  beg  you  to  consider  this  communication  with  regard 
to  Eva's  connection  with  Mr.  Sydney  as  quite  in  confi 
dence.  " 

"I  certainly  shall  do  so,"  said  I,  rising  to  take  my 
leave  with  much  the  same  sort  of  eagerness  with  which 
one  rises  from  a  dentist's  chair,  after  having  his  nerves 
picked  at.  As  at  this  moment  the  voices  of  the  returning 
party  broke  up  our  interview,  I  immediately  arose,  and 
excusing  myself  with  the  plea  of  an  article  to  finish,  left 
the  house  and  walked  home  in  a  state  of  mind  as  disagree 
able  as  my  worst  enemy  could  have  wished.  Like  all  deli 
cate  advisers  who  are  extremely  fearful  of  hurting  your 
feelings,  Mrs.  Yan  Arsdel  had  told  me  nothing  definite, 
and  yet  had  said  enough  to  make  me  supremely  uncomfort 
able.  What  did  she  mean,  and  how  much  did  she  mean  ? 
Had  there  been  reports  1  Was  this  to  be  received  as  an 
intimation  from  Eva  herself  1  Had  she  discovered  the  state 
of  my  feelings,  and  was  she,  through  her  mother,  warning 
me  of  my  danger  ? 


310  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

All  my  little  romance  seemed  disenchanted.  These  illu 
sions  of  love  are  like  the  legends  of  hidden  treasures  guarded 
by  watchful  spirits  which  disappear  from  you  if  you  speak 
a  word ;  or  like  an  enchanting  dream,  which  vanishes  if  you 
start  and  open  your  eyes.  I  tossed  to  and  fro  restlessly  all 
night,  and  resolved  to  do  precisely  the  most  irrational 
thing  that  I  could  have  done  under  the  circumstances,  and 
that  was  to  give  up  going  to  the  Van  Arsdel  house,  and  to 
see  Eva  no  more. 

The  next  morning,  however,  showed  me  that  I  could  not 
make  so  striking  a  change  in  my  habits  without  subjecting 
myself  to  Jim  Fellows 's  remarks  and  inquiry.  I  resolved 
on  a  course  of  gradual  emancipation  and  detachment. 

[Eva  Van  Arsdel  to  Isabel  Convers.] 

MY  DEAREST  BELLE,  —  Since  I  wrote  to  you  last  there 
have  been  the  strangest  changes.  I  scarcely  know  what  to 
think.  You  remember  I  told  you  all  about  Easter  Eve, 
and  a  certain  person's  appearance,  and  about  the  stolen 
glove  and  all  that.  Your  theory  of  accounting  for  all  this 
was  precisely  mine;  in  fact,  I  could  think  of  no  other. 
And,  Belle,  if  I  could  only  see  you  I  could  tell  you  of  a 
thousand  little  things  that  make  me  certain  that  he  cares 
for  me  more  than  in  the  way  of  mere  friendship.  I 
thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken  in  that.  There  has  been 
scarcely  a  day  since  our  acquaintance  began  when  I  have 
not  in  some  way  seen  him  or  heard  from  him;  you  know 
all  those  early  services,  when  he  was  as  constant  as  the 
morning,  and  always  walked  home  with  me;  then,  he  and 
Jim  Fellows  always  spend  at  least  one  evening  in  a  week 
at  our  house,  and  there  are  no  end  of  accidental  meetings. 
For  example,  when  we  take  our  afternoon  drives  at  Central 
Park  we  are  sure  to  see  them  sitting  on  the  benches  watch 
ing  us  go  by,  and  it  came  to  be  quite  a  regular  thing  when 
we  stopped  the  carriage  at  the  terrace  and  got  out  to  walk 


ENCHANTMENT  AND   DISENCHANTMENT  311 

to  find  them  there,  and  then  Alice  would  go  off  with  Jim 
Fellows,  and  Mr.  H.  and  I  would  stroll  up  and  down 
among  the  lilac  hedges  and  in  all  those  lovely  little  nooks 
and  dells  that  are  so  charming.  I  'm  quite  sure  I  never 
explored  the  treasures  of  the  Park  as  I  have  this  spring. 
We  have  rambled  everywhere  —  up  hill  and  down  dale  — 
it  certainly  is  the  loveliest  and  most  complete  imitation  of 
wild  nature  that  ever  art  perfected.  One  could  fancy  one's 
self  deep  in  the  country  in  some  parts  of  it;  far  from  all 
the  rush  and  whirl  and  frivolity  of  this  great,  hot,  dizzy 
New  York.  You  may  imagine  that  with  all  this  we  have 
had  opportunity  to  become  very  intimate.  He  has  told  me 
all  about  himself,  all  the  history  of  his  life,  all  about  his 
mother,  and  his  home;  it  seems  hardly  possible  that  one 
friend  could  speak  more  unreservedly  to  another,  and  I,  dear 
Belle,  have  found  myself  speaking  with  equal  frankness  to 
him.  We  know  each  other  so  perfectly  that  there  has  for 
a  long  time  seemed  to  be  only  a  thin  impalpable  cobweb 
barrier  between  us;  but  you  know,  Belle,  that  airy,  filmy 
barrier  is  something  that  one  would  not  by  a  look  or  a 
word  disturb.  For  weeks  I  have  felt  every  day  that  surely 
the  next  time  we  meet  all  this  must  come  to  a  crisis. 
That  he  would  say  in  words  what  he  says  in  looks  —  in 
involuntary  actions  — .what,  in  fact,  I  am  perfectly  sure  of. 
Till  he  speaks  I  must  be  guarded.  I  must  hold  myself 
back  from  showing  him  the  kindly  interest  I  really  feel. 
For  I  am  proud,  as  you  know,  Belle,  and  have  always 
held  the  liberty  of  my  heart  as  a  sacred  treasure.  I  have 
always  felt  a  secret  triumph  in  the  consciousness  that  I  did 
not  care  for  anybody,  and  that  my  happiness  was  wholly  in 
my  own  hands,  and  I  mean  to  keep  it  so.  Our  friendship 
is  a  pleasant  thing  enough,  but  I  am  not  going  to  let  it 
become  too  necessary,  you  understand.  It  isn't  that  I 
care  so  very  much,  but  my  curiosity  is  really  excited  to 
know  just  what  the  real  state  of  the  case  is;  one  wants  to 


312  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

investigate  interesting  phenomena,  you  know.  When  I 
saw  that  little  glove  movement  on  Easter  Eve  I  confess  I 
thought  the  game  all  in  my  own  hands,  and  that  I  could 
quietly  wait  to  say  "checkmate  "  in  due  form  and  due  time; 
but,  after  all,  nothing  came  of  it;  that  is,  nothing  decisive; 
and  I  confess  I  didn't  know  what  to  think.  Sometimes  I 
have  fancied  some  obstacle  or  entanglement  or  commitment 
with  some  other  woman  —  this  Cousin  Caroline  perhaps  — 
but  he  talks  about  her  to  me  in  the  most  open  and  com 
posed  manner.  Sometimes  I  fancy  he  has  heard  the  report 
of  my  engagement  to  Sydney.  If  he  has,  why  doesn't  he 
ask  me  about  it?  I  have  no  objection  to  telling  him,  but 
I  certainly  shall  not  open  the  subject  myself.  Perhaps, 
as  Ida  thinks,  he  is  proud  and  poor,  and  not  willing  to  be 
a  suitor  to  a  rich  young  good-for-nothing.  Well,  that 
can't  be  helped,  he  must  be  a  suitor  if  he  wins  me,  for  I 
sha'n't  be;  he  must  ask  me,  for  I  certainly  sha'n't  ask 
him,  that's  settled.  If  he  would  "ask  me  pretty,"  now, 
who  knows  what  nice  things  he  might  hear?  I  would  tell 
him,  perhaps,  how  much  more  one  true  noble  heart  is 
worth  in  my  eyes  than  all  that  Wat  Sydney  has  to  give. 
Sometimes  I  am  quite  provoked  with  him  that  he  should 
look  so  much,  and  yet  say  no  more,  and  I  feel  a  naughty, 
wicked  inclination  to  flirt  with  somebody  else  just  to  make 
him  open  those  grands  yeux  of  his  a  little  wider  and  to  a 
little  better  purpose.  Sometimes  I  begin  to  feel  a  trifle 
vindictive  and  as  if  I  should  like  to  give  him  a  touch  of 
the  claw.  The  claw,  my  dear,  the  little  pearly  claw  that 
we  women  keep  in  reserve  in  the  patte  de  velours,  our 
only  and  most  sacred  weapon  of  defense. 

The  other  night,  at  Mrs.  Cerulean 's  salon,  she  was  hold 
ing  forth  with  great  effect  on  woman's  right  to  court  men 
—  as  natural  and  indefeasible  —  and  I  told  her  that  I  con 
sidered  our  right  to  be  courted  far  more  precious  and  invio 
lable.  Of  course  it  is  so.  The  party  that  makes  the  pro- 


ENCHANTMENT   AND   DISENCHANTMENT  313 

posals  is  the  party  that  must  take  the  risk  of  refusal,  and 
who  would  wish  to  do  that  ?  It  puts  me  out  of  all  patience 
just  to  think  of  it.  If  there  is  anything  that  vexes  me  it 
is  that  a  man  should  ever  feel  sure  that  a  woman's  heart 
is  at  his  disposal  before  he  has  asked  for  it  prettily  and 
properly  in  all  due  form,  and,  my  dear,  I  have  the  fear  of 
this  before  my  eyes,  even  in  our  most  intimate  moments. 
He  shall  not  feel  too  sure  of  me. 

Wednesday  Evening. 

My  dear  Belle,  I  can't  think  what  in  the  world  is  up 
now;  but  something  or  other  has  happened  to  a  certain 
person  that  has  changed  all  our  relations.  For  more  than 
a  week  I  have  scarcely  seen  him.  He  called  with  Jim 
Fellows  on  the  usual  evening,  but  did  not  go  into  Ida's 
room,  and  hardly  came  near  me,  and  seemed  all  in  a  flutter 
to  leave  all  the  time.  He  was  at  the  great  Elmore  wed 
ding,  and  so  was  I,  but  we  scarcely  spoke  all  the  evening. 
I  could  see  him  following  all  my  motions  and  watching  me 
at  a  distance,  but  as  sure  as  I  came  into  a  room  he  seemed 
in  a  perfect  flutter  to  get  out  of  it,  and  yet  no  sooner  had 
he  done  so  than  he  secured  some  position  where  he  could 
observe  me  at  a  distance.  I  was  provoked  enough,  and  I 
thought  if  my  lord  wanted  to  observe,  I  'd  give  him  some 
thing  to  see,  so  I  flirted  with  Jerrold  Livingstone,  whom 
I  don't  care  a  copper  about,  within  an  inch  of  his  life,  and 
I  made  a  special  effort  to  be  vastly  agreeable  to  all  the 
danglers  and  mustaches  that  I  usually  take  delight  in 
snubbing,  and  I  could  see  that  he  looked  quite  wretched, 
which  was  a  comfort  —  but  yet  he  wouldn't  come  near  me 
till  just  as  I  was  going  to  leave,  when  he  came  to  beg  I 
would  stay  longer  and  declared  that  he  hadn't  seen  any 
thing  of  me.  It  was  a  little  too  much!  I  assumed  an 
innocent  air  and  surveyed  him  de  haut  en  bas  and  said, 
"Why,  dear  me,  Mr.  Henderson,  possible  that  you  've  been 
here  all  this  time  ?  Where  have  you  kept  yourself  1 "  and 


314  MY   WIFE    AND   I 

then  I  handed  my  bouquet  to  Livingstone  and  swept  by 
in  triumph;  his  last  look  after  me  as  I  went  downstairs 
was  tragical,  you  may  believe.  Well,  I  can't  make  him 
out,  but  I  don't  care.  I  won't  care.  He  was  free  to 
come.  He  shall  be  free  to  go;  but  isn't  it  vexatious  that 
in  cases  of  this  kind  one  cannot  put  an  end  to  the  tragedy 
by  a  simple  common-sense  question? 

One  doesn't  care  so  very  much,  you  know,  what  is  the 
matter  with  these  creatures,  only  one  is  curious  to  know 
what  upon  earth  makes  them  act  so.  A  man  sets  up  a 
friendship  with  you,  and  then  looks  and  acts  as  if  he  adored 
you,  as  if  he  worshiped  the  ground  you  tread  on,  and  then 
is  off  at  a  tangent  with  a  tragedy  air,  and  you  are  not 
allowed  to  say,  "  My  dear  sir,  why  do  you  behave  so  ?  why 
do  you  make  such  a  precious  goose  of  yourself  1 " 

The  fact  is,  these  friendships  of  women  with  men  are  all 
fol-de-rol.  The  creatures  always  have  an  advantage  over 
you.  They  can  make  every  advance  and  come  nearer  and 
nearer  and  really  make  themselves  quite  agreeable,  not  to 
say  necessary,  and  then  suddenly  change  the  whole  footing 
and  one  cannot  even  ask  why.  One  cannot  say,  as  to  an 
other  woman,  "What  is  the  matter?  what  has  altered  your 
manner  ? "  She  cannot  even  show  that  she  notices  the 
change,  without  loss  of  self-respect.  A  woman  in  friend 
ship  with  a  man  is  made  heartless  by  this  very  necessity, 
she  must  always  hold  herself  ready  to  change  hands  and 
make  her  chasse  to  right  or  left  with  all  suitable  indifference 
whenever  her  partner  is  ready  for  another  move  in  the 
cotillion. 

Well,  so  be  it.  I  fancy  I  can  do  this  as  well  as  another. 
I  never  shall  inquire  into  his  motives.  I  'm  sorry  for  him, 
too,  for  he  looked  .quite  haggard  and  unhappy.  Well, 
it 's  his  own  fault;  for  if  he  would  only  be  open  with  me 
he  'd  find  it  to  his  advantage  —  perhaps. 

You  are  quite  mistaken,  dear,  in  what  you  have  heard 


ENCHANTMENT   AND   DISENCHANTMENT  315 

about  his  belonging  to  that  radical  party  of  strange  crea 
tures  who  rant  and  rage  about  progress  in  our  times. 
Like  all  generous,  magnanimous  men,  who  are  conscious  of 
strength,  he  sympathizes  with  the  weak,  and  is  a  champion 
of  woman  wherever  she  is  wronged;  and  certainly  in  many 
respects,  -we  must  all  admit  women  are  wronged  by  the 
laws  and  customs  of  society.  But  no  man  could  be  nicer 
in  his  sense  of  feminine  delicacy  and  more  averse  to  asso 
ciating  with  bold  and  unfeminine  women  than  he.  I  must 
defend  him  there.  I  am  sure  that  nothing  could  be  more 
distasteful  to  him  than  the  language  and  conduct  of  many 
of  these  dreadful  female  reformers  of  our  day.  If  I  am 
out  of  sorts  with  him  I  must  at  least  do  him  this  justice. 

You  inquire  about  Alice  and  Jim  Fellows;  my  dear, 
there  can  be  nothing  there.  They  are  perfectly  well 
matched;  a  pair  of  flirts,  and  neither  trusts  the  other  an 
inch  farther  than  they  can  see.  Alice  has  one  of  those 
characters  that  lie  in  layers  like  the  geologic  strata  that  our 
old  professor  used  to  show  us.  The  top  layer  is  all  show, 
and  display,  and  ambition;  dig  down  below  that  and  you 
find  a  warm  volcanic  soil  where  noble  plants  might  cast 
root.  But  at  present  she  is  all  in  the  upper  stratum.  She 
must  have  her  run  of  flirting  and  fashion  and  adventure, 
and  just  now  a  splendid  marriage  is  her  ideal,  but  she  is 
capable  of  a  great  deal  in  the  depths  of  her  nature.  All  I 
hope  is  she  will  not  marry  till  she  has  got  down  into  it, 
but  she  is  starting  under  full  sail  now,  coquetting  to  right 
and  left,  making  great  slaughter. 

She  looked  magnificently  at  the  wedding  and  quite  out 
shone  me.  She  has  that  superb  Spanish  style  of  beauty 
which  promises  to  wear  well  and  bloom  out  into  more 
splendor  as  time  goes  on,  and  she  has  a  good  heart  with 
all  her  nonsense. 

"\Vell,  dear,  what  a  long  letter !  and  must  I  add  to  it  the 
account  of  the  wedding  glories  —  lists  of  silver  and  gold 


316  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

tea-sets,  and  sets  of  pearls  and  diamonds  ?  My  dear,  only 
fancy  Tiffany's  counters  transferred  bodily,  with  cards  from 
A.,  B.,  and  C.,  presenting  this  and  that;  fancy  also  the 
young  men  of  your  acquaintance  silly-drunk,  or  stupid- 
drunk  in  the  latter  part  of  the  night  in  the  supper-room; 
fancy,  if  you  can,  the  bridegroom  carried  upstairs,  because 
he  couldn't  go  up  on  his  own  feet!  —  this  is  a  wedding! 
Never  mind !  the  bride  had  three  or  four  sets  of  diamond 
shoe-buckles,  and  rubies  and  emeralds  in  the  profusion  of 
the  "Arabian  Nights."  Well,  it  will  be  long  before  I  care 
for  such  a  wedding!  I  am  sick  of  splendors,  sated  with 
knickknacks,  my  doll  is  stuffed  with  sawdust,  etc.,  etc., 
but  I  shall  ever  be  your  loving  EVA. 

P.  S.  —  My  dear  —  a  case  of  conscience !  Would  it  be 
a  sin  to  flirt  a  little  with  Sydney,  just  enough  to  aggravate 
somebody  else?  Sydney's,  you  mind,  is  not  a  deep  heart- 
case.  He  only  wants  me  because  I  am  hard  to  catch,  and 
have  been  the  fashion.  I  '11  warrant  him  against  breaking 
his  heart  for  anybody.  However,  I  don't  believe  I  will 
flirt  after  all  —  I'll  try  some  other  square  of  the  chess 
board. 

The  confidential  conversation  held  with  me  by  Mrs.  Van 
Arsdel  had  all  the  effect  on  my  mental  castle-building  that 
a  sudden  blow  had  on  Alnaschar's  basket  of  glassware  in 
the  Arabian  tales. 

Nobody  is  conscious  how  far  he  has  been  in  dreamland 
till  he  is  awakened.  I  was  now  fully  aroused  to  the  fact 
that  I  was  in  love  with  Eva  Van  Arsdel,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  so  much  in  love  as  made  the  nourishing  and  cher 
ishing  of  an  intimate  friendship  an  impossibility,  and  only 
a  specious  cloak  for  a  sort  of  moral  dishonesty.  Now  I 
might  have  known  this  fact  in  the  beginning,  and  I  scolded 
and  lectured  myself  for  my  own  folly  in  not  confessing  it 
to  myself  before.  I  had  been  received  by  the  family  as  a 


ENCHANTMENT  AND  DISENCHANTMENT  317 

friend.  I  had  been  trusted  with  their  chief  treasure,  with 
the  understanding  that  it  was  to  belong  not  to  me  but  an 
other,  and  there  was  a  species  of  moral  indelicacy  to  my 
mind  in  having  suffered  myself  to  become  fascinated  by 
her  as  I  now  felt  that  I  was.  But  I  did  not  feel  adequate 
to  congratulating  her  as  the  betrothed  bride  of  another 
man;  nay,  more,  when  I  looked  back  on  the  kind  of  inti 
mate  and  confidential  relations  that  had  been  growing  up 
between  us,  I  could  not  but  feel  that  it  was  not  safe  for  me 
to  continue  them.  Two  natures  cannot  exactly  accord,  can 
not  keep  time  and  tune  together,  without  being  conscious 
of  the  fact  and  without  becoming  necessary  to  each  other; 
and  such  relations  in  their  very  nature  tend  to  grow  absorb 
ing  and  exclusive.  It  was  plain  to  me  that  if  Eva  were 
to  marry  Wat  Sydney  I  could  not  with  honor  and  safety 
continue  the  kind  of  intimacy  we  had  been  so  thoughtlessly 
and  so  delightfully  enjoying  for  the  past  few  weeks. 

But  how  to  break  it  off  without  an  explanation,  and  how 
make  that  explanation  1  There  is  a  certain  responsibility 
resting  on  a  man  of  conscience  and  honor  about  accepting 
all  that  nearness  of  access  and  that  closeness  of  intimacy 
which  the  ignorant  innocence  of  young  girls  often  invites. 
From  his  very  nature,  from  his  education,  from  his  posi 
tion  in  society,  a  young  man  knows  more  of  what  the  full 
significance  and  requirements  of  marriage  are  to  be  than 
a  young  woman  can,  and  he  must  know  the  danger  of  ab 
sorbing  and  exclusive  intimacy  with  other  than  a  husband. 
The  instincts  of  every  man  teach  that  marriage  must  be 
engrossing  and  monopolizing,  that  it  implies  a  forsaking  of 
all  others,  and  a  keeping  unto  one  only;  and  how  could 
that  be  when  every  taste  and  feeling,  every  idiosyncrasy 
and  individual  peculiarity,  made  the  society  of  some  other 
person  more  agreeable? 

Without  undue  personal  vanity,  a  man  will  surely  know 
when  there  is  a  special  congeniality  of  nature  between  him- 


318  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

self  and  a  certain  woman,  and  he  is  bound  in  conscience 
and  honor  to  look  ahead  in  all  his  intimacies  and  see  what 
must  be  the  inevitable  result  of  them  according  to  the  laws 
of  the  human  mind.  Because  I  had  neglected  this  caution, 
because  I  had  yielded  myself  blindly  to  the  delicious  en 
chantment  of  a  new  enthusiasm,  I  had  now  come  to  a  place 
where  I  knew  neither  how  to  advance  nor  recede. 

I  could  not  drop  this  intimacy,  so  dangerous  to  my  peace 
and  honor,  without  risk  of  offending;  to  explain  was,  in 
fact,  to  solicit.  I  might  confess  all,  cast  myself  at  her  feet 
—  but  supposing  she  should  incline  to  mercy  —  and  with 
a  woman's  uncalculating  disinterestedness  accept  my  love 
in  place  of  wealth  and  station,  what  should  I  then  do  ? 

Had  I  been  possessed  of  a  fortune  even  half  equal  to  Mr. 
Sydney's;  had  I,  in  fact,  any  settled  and  assured  position 
to  offer,  I  would  have  avowed  my  love  boldly  and  suffered 
her  to  decide.  But  I  had  no  advantage  to  stand  on.  I  was 
poor,  and  had  nothing  to  give  but  myself;  and  what  man  is 
vain  enough  to  think  that  he  is  in  himself  enough  to  make 
up  for  all  that  may  be  wanting  in  externals  ?  Besides  this, 
Eva  was  the  daughter  of  a  rich  family,  and  an  offer  of 
marriage  from  me  must  have  appeared  to  all  the  world  the 
interested  proposal  of  a  fortune-hunter.  Of  what  avail 
would  it  be  under  such  circumstances  to  plead  that  I  loved 
her  for  herself  alone  ?  I  could  fancy  the  shout  of  incredu 
lous  laughter  with  which  the  suggestion  would  be  received 
in  the  gay  world. 

"  So  very  thoughtful  of  the  fair! 
It  showed  a  true  fraternal  care. 
Five  thousand  guineas  in  her  purse  — 
The  fellow  might  have  fancied  worse." 

Now,  if  there  was  anything  that  my  pride  revolted  from 
as  an  impossibility,  it  was  coming  as  a  poor  suitor  to  a 
great  rich  family.  Were  I  even  sure  that  Eva  loved  me, 
how  could  I  do  that?  Would  not  all  the  world  say  that 
to  make  use  of  my  access  in  the  family  to  draw  her  down 


ENCHANTMENT  AND  DISENCHANTMENT  319 

from  a  splendid  position  in  life  to  poverty  and  obscurity 
was  on  my  part  a  dishonorable  act?  Could  I  trust  myself 
enough  to  feel  that  it  was  justice  to  her  1 

The  struggle  that  a  young  man  has  to  engage  in  to  se 
cure  a  self-supporting  position  is  of  a  kind  to  make  him 
keenly  alive  to  material  values.  Dr.  Franklin  said,  "If 
you  would  learn  the  value  of  money,  try  to  borrow  some.'7 
I  would  say  rather,  Try  to  earn  some,  and  to  live  only  on 
what  you  earn.  My  own  hard  experience  on  this  subject 
led  me  to  reflect  very  seriously  on  the  responsibility  which 
a  man  incurs  in  inducing  a  woman  of  refinement  and  cul 
ture  to  look  to  him  as  her  provider. 

In  our  advanced  state  of  society  there  are  a  thousand 
absolute  wants  directly  created  by  culture  and  refinement; 
and  whatever  may  be  said  about  the  primary  importance  of 
personal  affection  and  sympathy  as  the  foundation  of  a 
happy  marriage,  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  a  certain 
amount  of  pecuniary  ease  and  security  is  necessary  as  a 
background  on  which  to  develop  agreeable  qualities.  A 
man  and  woman  much  driven,  careworn,  and  overtaxed 
often  have  little  that  is  agreeable  to  show  to  each  other.  I 
queried  with  myself  then,  whether,  as  Eva's  true  friend, 
I  should  not  wish  that  she  might  marry  a  respectable  man, 
devoted  to  her,  who  could  keep  her  in  all  that  elegance  and 
luxury  she  was  so  fitted  to  adorn  and  enjoy;  and  whether, 
if  I  could  do  it,  I  ought  to  try  to  put  myself  in  his  place 
in  her  mind. 

A  man  who  detects  himself  in  an  unfortunate  passion 
has  always  the  refuge  of  his  life  object.  To  the  true  man, 
the  thing  that  he  hopes  to  do  always  offers  some  compensa 
tion  for  the  thing  he  ceases  to  enjoy.  It  was  fortunate, 
therefore,  for  me,  that  just  in  this  crisis  of  my  life  my 
friendship  with  Bolton  opened  before  me  the  prospect  of 
a  permanent  establishment  in  connection  with  the  literary 
press  of  the  times. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

A    NEW    OPENING 

"HENDERSON,"  said  Bolton  to  me,  one  day,  "how  long 
are  you  engaged  on  the  '  Democracy  '  ?  " 

"Only  for  this  year,"  said  I. 

"Because,"  said  he,  "I  have  something  to  propose  to 
you  which  I  hope  may  prove  a  better  thing.  Hestermann 
&  Co.  sent  for  me  yesterday  in  secret  session.'  The  head 
manager  of  their  whole  set  of  magazines  and  papers  has  re 
signed,  and  is  going  to  travel  in  Europe,  and  they  want 
me  to  take  the  place." 

"Good!  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it,"  said  I.  "I  always 
felt  that  you  were  not  in  the  position  that  you  ought  to 
have.  You  will  accept,  of  course." 

"Whether  I  accept  or  not  depends  on  you,"  he  replied. 

"I  cannot  understand,"  said  I. 

"In  short,  then,"  said  he,  "the  responsibility  is  a  heavy 
one,  and  I  cannot  undertake  it  without  a  partner  whom  I 
can  trust  as  myself  —  I  mean,"  he  added,  "whom  I  can 
trust  more  than  myself." 

"You  are  a  thousand  times  too  good,"  said  I.  "I 
should  like  nothing  better  than  such  a  partnership,  but  I 
feel  oppressed  by  your  good  opinion.  Are  you  sure  that 
I  am  the  one  for  you  ?  " 

"I  think  I  am,"  said  he,  "and  it  is  a  case  where  I  am 
the  best  judge;  and  it  offers  to  you  just  what  you  want  — 
a  stable  position,  independence  to  express  yourself,  and 
a  good  income.  Hestermann  &  Co.  are  rich,  and  wise 
enough  to  know  that  liberality  is  the  best  policy." 


A  NEW   OPENING  321 

"But,"  said  I,  "their  offers  are  made  to  you,  and  not 
to  me." 

"Well,  of  course,  their  acquaintance  with  me  is  of  old 
standing;  but  I  have  spoken  to  them  of  you,  and  I  am  to 
bring  you  round  to  talk  with  them  to-morrow;  but,  after 
all,  the  whole  power  of  arranging  is  left  with  me.  They 
put  a  certain  sum  at  my  disposal,  and  I  do  what  I  please 
with  it.  In  short,"  he  said,  smiling,  "I  hold  the  living, 
and  you  are  my  curate.  Well,"  he  added,  "of  course  you 
need  time  to  think  matters  over;  here  is  paper  on  which 
I  have  made  a  little  memorandum  of  an  arrangement  be 
tween  us ;  take  it  and  dream  on  it,  and  let  me  know  to 
morrow  what  you  think  of  it. " 

I  went  to  my  room  and  unfolded  the  agreement,  and 
found  the  terms  liberal  beyond  all  my  expectations.  In 
fact,  the  income  of  the  principal  was  awarded  to  me,  and 
that  of  the  subordinate  to  Bolton. 

I  took  the  paper  the  next  evening  to  Bolton 's  room. 
"Look  here,  Bolton,"  said  I,  "these  terms  are  simply  ab 
surd.  " 

"  How  so  1 "  he  said,  lifting  his  eyes  tranquilly  from 
his  book.  "What 's  the  matter  with  them?  " 

"Why,  you  give  me  all  the  income." 

"Wait  till  you  see  how  I'll  work  you,"  he  said,  smil 
ing.  "I  '11  get  it  out  of  you;  you  see  if  I  don't." 

"But  you  leave  yourself  nothing." 

"I  have  as  much  as  I  would  have,  and  that's  enough. 
I  'm  a  literary  monk,  you  know,  with  no  family  but  Puss 
and  Stumpy,  poor  fellow,  and  I  need  the  less." 

Stumpy  upon  this  pricked  up  his  ragged  ears  with  an 
expression  of  lively  satisfaction,  sat  back  on  his  haunches, 
and  rapped  the  floor  with  his  forlorn  bit  of  a  tail. 

"Poor  Stumpy,"  said  Bolton,  "you  don't  know  that  you 
are  the  homeliest  dog  in  New  York,  do  you?  Well,  as 
far  as  you  go,  you  are  perfect  goodness,  Stumpy,  though 
you  are  no  beauty." 


322  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Upon  this  high  praise  Stumpy  seemed  so  elated  that  he 
stood  on  his  hind  paws  and  rested  his  rough  fore  feet  on 
Bolton's  knee,  and  looked  up  with  eyes  of  admiration. 

"Man  is  the  dog's  God,"  said  Bolton.  "I  can't  con 
ceive  how  any  man  can  be  rude  to  his  dog.  A  dog,"  he 
added,  fondling  his  ragged  cur,  "why,  he's  nothing  but 
organized  love  —  love  on  four  feet,  encased  in  fur,  and 
looking  piteously  out  at  the  eyes  —  love  that  would  die  for 
you,  yet  cannot  speak  —  that 's  the  touching  part.  Stumpy 
longs  to  speak;  his  poor  dog's  breast  heaves  with  some 
thing  he  longs  to  tell  me  and  can't.  Don't  it,  Stumpy?  " 

As  if  he  understood  his  master,  Stumpy  wheezed  a  dole 
ful  whine,  and  actual  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

"Well,"  said  Bolton,  "Stumpy  has  beautiful  eyes;  no 
body  shall  deny  that  —  there,  there!  poor  fellow,  maybe 
on  the  other  shore  your  rough  bark  will  develop  into 
speech;  let 's  hope  so.  I  confess  I  'm  of  the  poor  Indian's 
mind,  and  hope  to  meet  my  dog  in  the  hereafter.  Why 
should  so  much  love  go  out  in  nothing?  Yes,  Stumpy, 
we'll  meet  in  the  resurrection,  won't  we?"  Stumpy 
barked  aloud  with  the  greatest  animation. 

"Bolton,  you  ought  to  be  a  family  man,"  said  I.  "Why 
do  you  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  to  be  a  literary 
monk,  and  spend  your  love  on  dogs  and  cats  ? " 

"You  may  get  married,  Hal,  and  I  '11  adopt  your  chil 
dren,"  said  Bolton;  "that's  one  reason  why  I  want  to  es 
tablish  you.  You  see,  one  's  dogs  will  die,  and  it  breaks 
one's  heart.  If  you  had  a  boy,  now,  I  'd  invest  in  him." 

"And  why  can't  you  invest  in  a  boy  of  your  own? " 

"Oh,  I  'm  a  predestined  old  bachelor." 

"No  such  thing,"  I  persisted  hardily.  "Why  do  you 
immure  yourself  in  a  den?  Why  won't  you  go  out  into 
society?  Here,  ever  since  I  've  known  you,  you  have  been 
in  this  one  cave  —  a  New  York  hermit ;  yet  if  you  would 
once  begin  to  go  into  society,  you  'd  like  it." 


A   NEW   OPENING  323 

"You  think  I  haven't  tried  it;  you  forget  that  I  am 
some  years  older  than  you  are,"  said  Bolton. 

"You  are  a  good-looking  young  fellow  yet,"  said  I, 
"and  ought  to  make  the  most  of  yourself.  Why  should 
you  turn  all  the  advantages  into  my  hands,  and  keep  so 
little  for  yourself?" 

"It  suits  me,"  said  Bolton;  "I  am  lazy  —  I  mean  to 
get  the  work  out  of  you." 

"That 's  all  hum,"  said  I;  "you  know  well  enough  that 
you  are  not  lazy;  you  take  delight  in  work  for  work's 
sake." 

"One  reason  I  am  glad  of  this  position,"  he  said,  "is 
that  it  gives  me  a  chance  to  manage  matters  a  little  as  I 
want  them.  For  instance,  there's  Jim  Fellows  —  I  want 
to  make  something  more  than  a  mad  Bohemian  of  that  boy. 
Jim  is  one  of  the  wild  growths  of  our  New  York  life ;  he 
is  a  creature  of  the  impulses  and  the  senses,  and  will  be 
for  good  or  evil  according  as  others  use  him." 

"He's  capital  company,"  said  I,  "but  he  doesn't  seem 
to  me  to  have  a  serious  thought  on  any  subject." 

"And  yet,"  said  Bolton,  "such  is  our  day  and  time, 
that  Jim  is  more  likely  than  you  or  I  to  get  along  in  the 
world.  His  cap  and  bells  win  favor  everywhere,  and  the 
laugh  he  raises  gives  him  the  privilege  of  saying  anything 
he  pleases.  For  my  part,  I  couldn't  live  without  Jim.  I 
have  a  weakness  for  him.  Nothing  is  so  precious  to  me 
as  a  laugh,  and,  wet  or  dry,  I  can  always  get  that  out  of 
Jim.  He  '11  work  in  admirably  with  us." 

"One  thing  must  be  said  for  Jim,"  said  I,  "with  all  his 
keenness  he  's  kind  hearted.  He  never  is  witty  at  the 
expense  of  real  trouble.  As  he  says,  he  goes  for  the  under 
dog  in  the  fight  always,  and  his  cheery,  frisky,  hit-or-miss 
morality  does  many  a  kind  turn  for  the  unfortunate,  while 
he  is  always  ready  to  help  the  poor." 

"Jim  is  not  of  the  sort  that  is  going  to  do  the  world's 


324  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

thinking  for  them,"  said  Bolton;  "neither  will  he  ever  be 
one  of  the  noble  army  of  martyrs  for  principle.  He  is  like 
a  lively,  sympathetic  horse  that  will  keep  the  step  of  the 
team  he  is  harnessed  in,  and  in  the  department  of  lively 
nonsense  he  'd  do  us  yeoman  service.  Nowadays  people 
must  have  truth  whipped  up  to  a  white  froth  or  they  won't 
touch  it.  Jim  is  a  capital  egg-beater." 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "he  's  like  the  horse  that  had  the  GO  in 
him;  he'll  run  any  team  that  he's  harnessed  in,  and  if 
you  hold  the  reins  he  won't  run  off  the  course." 

"Then  again,"  said  Bolton,  "there's  your  cousin;  there 
is  the  editorship  of  our  weekly  journal  will  be  just  the 
place  for  her.  You  can  write  and  offer  it  to  her." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  I  maliciously,  "since  you  are  ac 
quainted  with  the  lady,  why  not  write  and  offer  it  yourself  1 
It  would  be  a  good  chance  to  renew  your  acquaintance." 

Bolton 's  countenance  changed,  and  he  remained  a  mo 
ment  silent. 

"Henderson,"  he  said,  "there  are  very  painful  circum 
stances  connected  with  my  acquaintance  with  your  cousin. 
I  never  wish  to  meet  her,  or  renew  my  acquaintance  with 
her.  Some  time  I  will  tell  you  why,"  he  added. 

The  next  evening  I  found  on  my  table  the  following  let 
ter  from  Bolton :  — 

DEAR  HENDERSON,  —  You  need  feel  no  hesitancy  about 
accepting  in  full  every  advantage  in  the  position  I  propose 
to  you,  since  you  may  find  it  weighted  with  disadvantages 
and  incumbrances  you  do  not  dream  of.  In  short,  I  shall 
ask  of  you  services  for  which  no  money  can  pay,  and  till 
I  knew  you  there  was  no  man  in  the  world  of  whom  I  had 
dared  to  ask  them.  I  want  a  friend,  courageous,  calm, 
and  true,  capable  of  thinking  broadly  and  justly,  one  su 
perior  to  ordinary  prejudices,  who  may  be  to  me  another, 
and  in  some  hours  a  stronger  self. 


A   NEW   OPENING  325 

I  can  fancy  your  surprise  at  this  language,  and  yet  I 
have  not  read  you  aright  if  you  are  not  the  one  of  a  thou 
sand  on  whom  I  may  rest  this  hope. 

You  often  rally  me  on  my  lack  of  enterprise  and  ambi- 
tion,  on  my  hermit  habits.  The  truth  is,  Henderson,  I 
am  a  strained  and  unseaworthy  craft,  for  whom  the  harbor 
and  shore  are  the  safest  quarters.  I  have  lost  trust  in 
myself,  and  dare  not  put  out  to  sea  without  feeling  the 
strong  hand  of  a  friend  with  me. 

I  suppose  no  young  fellow  ever  entered  the  course  of  life 
with  more  self-confidence.  I  had  splendid  health,  high 
spirits,  great  power  of  application,  and  great  social  powers. 
I  lived  freely  and  carelessly  on  the  abundance  of  my  phy 
sical  resources.  I  could  ride,  and  row,  and  wrestle  with 
the  best.  I  could  lead  in  all  social  gayeties,  yet  keep  the 
head  of  my  class,  as  I  did  the  first  two  years  of  my  college 
life.  It  seems  hardly  fair  to  us  human  beings  that  we 
should  be  so  buoyed  up  with  ignorant  hope  and  confidence 
in  the  beginning  of  our  life,  and  that  we  should  be  left  in 
our  ignorance  to  make  mistakes  which  no  after-years  can 
retrieve.  I  thought  I  was  perfectly  sure  of  myself;  I 
thought  my  health  and  strength  were  inexhaustible,  and 
that  I  could  carry  weights  that  no  man  else  could.  The 
drain  of  my  wide-awake  exhausting  life  upon  my  nervous 
system  I  made  up  by  the  insidious  use  of  stimulants.  I 
was  like  a  man  habitually  overdrawing  his  capital,  and 
ignorant  to  what  extent.  In  my  third  college  year  this 
began  to  tell  perceptibly  on  my  nerves.  I  was  losing  self- 
control,  losing  my  way  in  life;  I  was  excitable,  irritable, 
impatient  of  guidance  or  reproof,  and  at  times  horribly 
depressed.  I  sought  refuge  from  this  depression  in  social 
exhilaration,  and  having  lost  control  of  myself  became  a 
marked  man  among  the  college  authorities;  in  short,  I  was 
overtaken  in  a  convivial  row,  brought  under  college  disci 
pline,  and  suspended. 


326  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

It  was  at  this  time  that  I  went  into  your  neighborhood 
to  study  and  teach.  I  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  the 
highest  recommendations  as  to  scholarship  from  some  of  the 
college  officers  who  were  for  giving  me  a  chance  to  recover 
myself;  and  for  the  rest  I  was  thoroughly  sobered  and 
determined  on  a  new  course.  Here  commenced  my  ac 
quaintance  with  your  cousin,  and  there  followed  a  few 
months  remembered  ever  since  as  the  purest  happiness  of 
my  life.  I  loved  her  with  all  there  was  in  me,  —  heart, 
soul,  mind,  and  strength,  —  with  a  love  which  can  never 
die.  She  also  loved  me,  more  perhaps  than  she  dared  to 
say,  for  she  was  young,  hardly  come  to  full  consciousness 
of  herself.  She  was  then  scarcely  sixteen,  ignorant  of  her 
own  nature,  ignorant  of  life,  and  almost  frightened  at  the 
intensity  of  the  feeling  which  she  excited  in  me,  yet  she 
loved  me.  But  before  we  could  arrive  at  anything  like  a 
calm  understanding  her  father  came  between  us.  He  was 
a  trustee  of  the  Academy,  and  a  dispute  arose  between  him 
and  me  in  which  he  treated  me  with  an  overbearing  haugh 
tiness  which  aroused  the  spirit  of  opposition  in  me.  I  was 
in  the  right  and  knew  I  was,  and  I  defended  my  course 
before  the  other  trustees  in  a  manner  which  won  them  over 
to  my  way  of  thinking  —  a  victory  which  he  never  forgave. 

Previously  to  this  encounter  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  in  his  family  quite  intimately.  Caroline  and  I 
enjoyed  that  kind  of  un watched  freedom  which  the  customs 
of  New  England  allow  to  young  people.  I  always  attended 
her  home  from  the  singing-school  and  the  weekly  lectures, 
and  the  evening  after  my  encounter  with  the  trustees  I  did 
the  same.  At  the  door  of  his  house  he  met  us,  and  as 
Caroline  passed  in  he  stopped  me,  and  briefly  saying  that 
my  visits  there  would  no  longer  be  permitted,  closed  the 
door  in  my  face.  I  tried  to  obtain  an  interview  soon  after, 
when  he  sternly  upbraided  me  as  one  that  had  stolen  into 
the  village  and  won  their  confidence  on  false  pretenses, 


A   NEW   OPENING  327 

adding  that  if  he  and  the  trustees  had  known  the  full  his 
tory  of  my  college  life  I  should  never  have  been  permitted 
to  teach  in  their  village  or  have  access  to  their  families. 
It  was  in  vain  to  attempt  a  defense  to  a  man  determined  to 
take  the  very  worst  view  of  facts  which  I  did  not  pretend 
to  deny.  I  knew  that  I  had  been  irreproachable  as  to  my 
record  in  the  school,  that  I  had  been  faithful  in  my  duties, 
that  the  majority  of  parents  and  pupils  were  on  my  side; 
but  I  could  not  deny  the  harsh  facts  which  he  had  been 
enabled  to  obtain  from  some  secret  enemy,  and  which  he 
thought  justified  him  in  saying  that  he  would  rather  see 
his  daughter  in  her  grave  than  to  see  her  my  wife.  The 
next  day  Caroline  did  not  appear  in  school.  Her  father, 
with  prompt  energy,  took  her  immediately  to  an  academy 
fifty  miles  away. 

I  did  not  attempt  to  follow  her  or  Avrite  to  her;  a  pro 
found  sense  of  discouragement  came  over  me,  and  I  looked 
on  my  acquaintance  with  her  with  a  sort  of  remorse.  The 
truth  bitterly  told  by  an  enemy  with  a  vivid  power  of  state 
ment  is  a  tonic  oftentimes  too  strong  for  one's  power  of 
endurance.  I  never  reflected  so  seriously  on  the  responsi 
bility  which  a  man  assumes  in  awakening  the  slumbering 
feelings  of  a  woman  and  fixing  them  on  himself.  Under 
the  reproaches  of  Caroline's  father  I  could  but  regard  this 
as  a  wrong  I  had  done,  and  which  could  be  expiated  only 
by  leaving  her  to  peace  in  forgetfulness.  I  resolved  that 
I  would  never  let  her  hear  from  me  again  till  I  had  fully 
proved  myself  to  be  possessed  of  such  powers  of  self-control 
as  would  warrant  me  in  offering  to  be  the  guardian  of  her 
happiness. 

But  when  I  set  myself  to  the  work,  I  found  what  many 
another  does,  that  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host.  The 
man  who  has  begun  to  live  and  work  by  artificial  stimu 
lant  never  knows  where  he  stands,  and  can  never  count 
upon  himself  with  any  certainty.  He  lets  into  his  castle 


328  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

a  servant  who  becomes  the  most  tyrannical  of  masters.  He 
may  resolve  to  turn  him  out,  but  will  find  himself  reduced 
to  the  condition  in  which  he  can  neither  do  with  nor  with 
out  him.  In  short,  the  use  of  stimulant  to  the  brain 
power  brings  on  a  disease,  in  whose  paroxysms  a  man  is  no 
more  his  own  master  than  in  the  ravings  of  fever,  a  disease 
that  few  have  the  knowledge  to  understand,  and  for  whose 
manifestations  the  world  has  no  pity. 

I  cannot  tell  you  the  dire  despair  that  came  upon  me, 
when  after  repeated  falls,  bringing  remorse  and  self-up 
braiding  to  me,  and  drawing  upon  me  the  severest  re 
proaches  of  my  friends,  the  idea  at  last  flashed  upon  me 
that  I  had  indeed  become  the  victim  of  a  sort  of  periodical 
insanity  in  which  the  power  of  the  will  was  overwhelmed 
by  a  wild  unreasoning  impulse.  I  remember  when  a  boy 
reading  an  account  of  a  bridal  party  sailing  gayly  on  the 
coast  of  Norway  who  were  insidiously  drawn  into  the  resist 
less  outer  whirl  of  the  great  Maelstrom.  The  horror  of  the 
situation  was  the  moment  when  the  shipmaster  learned  that 
the  ship  no  longer  obeyed  the  rudder  ;  the  cruelty  of  it 
was  the  gradual  manner  in  which  the  resistless  doom  came 
upon  them.  The  sun  still  shone,  the  sky  was  still  blue. 
The  shore,  with  its  green  trees  and  free  birds  and  bloom 
ing  flowers,  was  near  and  visible  as  they  went  round  and 
round  in  dizzy  whirls,  past  the  church  with  its  peaceful 
spire,  past  the  home  cottages,  past  the  dwellings  of  friends 
and  neighbors,  past  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters  who  stood 
on  the  shore  warning  and  shrieking  and  entreating;  help 
less,  hopeless,  with  bitterness  in  their  souls,  with  all  that 
made  life  lovely  so  near  in  sight,  and  yet  cut  off  from  it 
by  the  swirl  of  that  tremendous  fate ! 

There  have  been  just  such  hours  to  me,  in  which  I  have 
seen  the  hopes  of  manhood,  the  love  of  woman,  the  posses 
sion  of  a  home,  the  opportunities  for  acquisition  of  name, 
and  position,  and  property,  all  within  sight,  within  grasp, 


A   NEW   OPENING  329 

yet  all  made  impossible  by  my  knowledge  and  conscious 
ness  of  the  deadly  drift  and  suction  of  that  invisible  whirl 
pool. 

The  more  of  manliness  there  yet  is  left  in  man  in  these 
circumstances,  the  more  torture.  The  more  sense  of  honor, 
love  of  reputation,  love  of  friends,  conscience  in  duty,  the 
more  anguish.  I  read  once  a  frightful  story  of  a  woman 
whose  right  hand  was  changed  to  a  serpent,  which  at  inter 
vals  was  roused  to  fiendish  activity  and  demanded  of  her 
the  blood  of  her  nearest  and  dearest  friends.  The  hideous 
curse  was  inappeasable,  and  the  doomed  victim  spellbound, 
powerless  to  resist.  Even  so  the  man  who  has  lost  the 
control  of  his  will  is  driven  to  torture  those  he  loves,  while 
he  shivers  with  horror  and  anguish  at  the  sight. 

I  have  seen  the  time  when  I  gave  earnest  thanks  that  no 
woman  loved  me,  that  I  had  no  power  to  poison  the  life  of 
a  wife  with  the  fear,  and  terror,  and  lingering  agony  of 
watching  the  slow  fulfillment  of  such  a  doom. 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  with  every  advantage  —  of 
friends,  patronage,  position  —  I  lost  all. 

The  world  is  exigeant.  It  demands  above  everything 
that  every  man  shall  keep  step.  He  who  cannot  falls  to 
the  rear,  and  is  gradually  left  behind  as  the  army  moves  on. 

The  only  profession  left  to  me  was  one  which  could  avail 
itself  of  my  lucid  intervals.  The  power  of  clothing  thought 
with  language  is  in  our  day  growing  to  be  a  species  of  tal 
ent  for  which  men  are  willing  to  pay,  and  I  have  been 
able  by  this  to  make  myself  a  name  and  a  place  in  the 
world ;  and  what  is  more,  I  hope  to  do  some  good  in  it. 

I  have  reflected  upon  my  own  temptation,  endeavoring 
to  divest  myself  of  the  horror  with  which  my  sense  of  the 
suffering  and  disappointment  I  have  caused  my  friends  in 
spires  me.  I  have  settled  in  my  own  mind  the  limits  of 
human  responsibility  on  this  subject,  and  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  is  to  be  regarded  precisely  as  Mary  Lamb 


330  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

and  Charles  Lamb  regarded  the  incursion  of  the  mania 
which  destroyed  the  peace  of  their  life.  A  man  who  un 
dertakes  to  comprehend  and  cure  himself  has  to  fight  his 
way  back  alone.  Nobody  understands,  nobody  sympathizes 
with  him,  nobody  helps  him  —  not  because  the  world  is 
unfeeling,  but  because  it  is  ignorant  of  the  laws  which 
govern  this  species  of  insanity. 

It  took  me,  therefore,  a  great  while  to  form  my  system 
of  self -cure.  I  still  hope  for  this.  /,  the  sane  and  sound, 
/  hope  to  provide  for  the  insane  and  unsound  intervals  of 
my  life.  And  my  theory  is,  briefly,  a  total  and  eternal 
relinquishment  of  the  poisonous  influence,  so  that  nature 
may  have  power  to  organize  new  and  healthy  brain-matter, 
and  to  remove  that  which  is  diseased.  Nature  will  do  this, 
in  the  end,  for  she  is  ever  merciful;  there  is  always  "for 
giveness  with  her,  that  she  may  be  feared."  Since  you 
have  known  me,  you  have  seen  that  I  live  the  life  of  an 
anchorite  —  that  my  hours  are  regular,  that  I  avoid  excit 
ing  society,  that  I  labor  with  uniformity,  and  that  I  never 
touch  any  stimulating  drink.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  cases 
like  mine  that  for  lengths  of  time  the  morbid  disease  leaves 
us,  and  we  feel  the  utmost  aversion  to  anything  of  the 
kind.  But  there  is  always  a  danger  lying  behind  this  sub 
tle  calm.  Three  or  four  drops  of  alcohol,  such  as  form  the 
basis  of  a  tincture  which  a  doctor  will  order  without  scru 
ple,  will  bring  back  the  madness.  One  five-minutes'  inad 
vertence  will  upset  the  painful  work  of  years,  and  carry 
one  away  as  with  a  flood.  When  I  did  not  know  this,  I 
was  constantly  falling.  Society  through  all  its  parts  is 
full  of  traps  and  pitfalls  for  such  as  I,  and  the  only  refuge 
is  in  flight. 

It  has  been  part  of  my  rule  of  life  to  avoid  all  responsi 
bilities  that  might  involve  others  in  my  liability  to  failure. 
It  is  now  a  very  long  time  since  I  have  felt  any  abnormal 
symptoms,  and  if  I  had  not  so  often  been  thrown  down 


A   NEW   OPENING  331 

after  such  a  period  of  apparent  calm,  I  might  fancy  my 
dangers  over,  and  myself  a  sound  man. 

The  younger  Hestermann  was  a  classmate  and  chum  of 
mine  in  college,  and  one  whose  friendship  for  me  has  held 
on  through  thick  and  thin.  He  has  a  trust  in  me  that 
imposes  on  me  a  painful  sense  of  responsibility.  I  would 
not  fail  him  for  a  thousand  worlds,  yet  if  one  of  my  hours 
of  darkness  should  come  I  should  fail  ignominiously. 

Only  one  motive  determined  me  to  take  their  offer  —  it 
gave  me  a  chance  to  provide  for  you  and  for  Caroline.  I 
dare  do  it  only  through  trusting  you  for  a  friendship  be 
yond  that  of  the  common;  in  short,  for  a  brotherly  kind 
ness  such  as  Charles  Lamb  showed  to  Mary,  his  sister.  If 
the  curse  returns  upon  me,  you  must  not  let  me  ruin  my 
self  and  you ;  you  must  take  me  to  an  asylum  till  I  recover. 
In  asking  this  of  you,  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  offer  what 
will  be  to  you  an  independent  position,  and  give  you  that 
home  and  fireside  which  I  may  not  dare  to  hope  for  my 
self. 

In  the  end,  I  expect  to  conquer,  either  here  or  hereafter. 
I  believe  in  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  and  that  He  has  a 
purpose  even  in  letting  us  blindly  stumble  through  life  as 
we  do;  and  through  all  my  weakness  and  unworthiness  I 
still  hold  his  hand.  I  know  that  the  whole  temptation  is 
one  of  brain  and  nerves,  and  when  He  chooses  He  can  re 
lease  me.  The  poor  brain  will  be  cold  and  still  for  good 
and  all  some  day,  and  I  shall  be  free  and  able  to  see,  I 
trust,  why  I  have  been  suffered  thus  to  struggle.  After 
all,  immortality  opens  a  large  hope,  that  may  overpay  the 
most  unspeakable  bitterness  of  life. 

Meanwhile,  you  can  see  why  I  do  not  wish  to  be  brought 
into  personal  relations  with  the  only  woman  I  have  ever 
loved,  or  ever  can  love,  and  whose  happiness  I  fear  to  put 
in  peril.  It  is  an  unspeakable  delight  and  relief  to  have 
this  power  of  doing  for  her,  but  she  must  not  know  of  it. 


332  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Also,  let  me  tell  you  that  you  are  to  me  more  transparent 
than  you  think.  It  requires  only  the  penetration  of  friend 
ship  to  see  that  you  are  in  love,  and  that  you  hesitate  and 
hang  back  because  of  an  unwillingness  to  match  your  for 
tunes  with  hers. 

Let  me  suggest,  do  you  not  owe  it  as  a  matter  of  justice, 
after  so  much  intimacy  as  has  existed,  to  give  her  the 
opportunity  to  choose  between  a  man  and  circumstances? 
If  the  arrangement  between  us  goes  into  effect,  you  will 
have  a  definite  position  and  a  settled  income.  Go  to  her 
like  a  man  and  lay  it  before  her,  and  if  she  is  worthy  of 
you  she  will  come  to  you. 

"  He  either  fears  his  fate  too  much, 

Or  his  deserts  are  small, 
That  dares  not  put  it  to  the  touch 
To  gain  or  lose  it  all." 

God  grant  you  a  home  and  fireside,  Harry,  and  I  will  be 
the  indulgent  uncle  in  the  chimney-corner. 

Yours  ever,  BOLTON. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

PERTURBATIONS 

SCENE.  —  Ida's  Study  —  Ida  busy  making  notes  from  a  book.    Eva  sitting 
by,  embroidering. 

EVA:  "Heigho!  how  stupid  things  are.  I  am  tired 
of  everything.  I  am  tired  of  shopping  —  tired  of  parties 
—  tired  of  New  York  —  where  the  same  thing  keeps  hap 
pening  over  and  over.  I  wish  I  was  a  man.  I  'd  just 
take  my  carpet-bag  and  go  to  Europe.  Come  now,  Ida, 
pray  stop  that,  and  talk  to  me,  do !  " 

Ida  (putting  down  her  book  and  pen) :  "  Well  —  and 
what  about  ? " 

"  Oh,  you  know !  —  this  inextricable  puzzle  —  what  does 
ail  a  certain  person?  Now  he  didn't  come  at  all  last 
night,  and  when  I  asked  Jim  Fellows  where  his  friend  was 
(one  must  pass  the  compliment  of  inquiring,  you  know), 
he  said,  '  Henderson  had  grown  dumpy  lately, '  and  he 
couldn't  get  him  out  anywhere." 

"Well,  Eva,  I'm  sure  I  can't  throw  any  light  on  the 
subject.  I  know  no  more  than  you." 

"Now,  Ida,  let  me  tell  you,  this  afternoon  when  we 
stopped  in  the  Park,  I  went  into  that  great  rustic  arbor  on 
the  top  of  the  hill  there,  and  just  as  we  came  in  on  one 
side  I  saw  him  in  all  haste  hurrying  out  on  the  other,  as  if 
he  were  afraid  to  meet  me." 

"How  very  odd!" 

"Odd!  Well,  I  should  think  it  was;  but  what  was 
worse,  he  went  and  stationed  himself  on  a  bench  under  a 
tree  where  he  could  hear  and  see  us,  and  there  my  lord  sat 
—  perhaps  he  thought  I  didn't  see  him,  but  I  did. 


334  MY   WIFE   AND  I 

"Lillie  and  Belle  Forrester  and  Wat  Jerrold  were  with 
me,  and  we  were  having  such  a  laugh!  I  don't  know 
when  I  have  had  such  a  frolic,  and  how  silly  it  was  of  him 
to  sit  there  glowering  like  an  owl  in  an  ivy  hush,  when  he 
might  have  come  out  and  joined  us,  and  had  a  good  time! 
I  'm  quite  out  of  patience  with  the  creature,  it 's  so  vexa 
tious  to  have  him  act  so ! " 

"It  is  vexatious,  darling,  but  then  as  you  can't  do  any 
thing  about  it,  why  think  of  it  ?  " 

"Because  I  can't  help  it.  Can  you  have  a  real  friend 
ship  for  a  person  and  enjoy  his  society,  and  not  care  in  the 
least  whether  you  have  it  or  not?  Of  course  you  can't. 
We  were  friends  —  quite  good  friends,  and  I'm  not 
ashamed  to  say  I  miss  him  very  much,  and  then  to  have 
such  an  unaccountable  mystery  about  it.  I  should  think 
you  'd  miss  him,  too." 

"I  do  somewhat,'7  said  Ida,  "but  then  you  see  I  have 
so  much  more  to  think  of.  I  have  my  regular  work  every 
day  for  papa,  and  I  have  my  plan  of  study,  and  to  say  the 
truth,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  though  I  liked  Mr.  Hen 
derson  very  much,  yet  I  don't  miss  him." 

"Well,  Ida,  now  I  want  to  ask  you,  didn't  you  think 
he  acted  as  if  "  — 

"As  if  he  were  in  love  with  you,  you  would  say." 

"Well  — yes." 

"He  certainly  did,  if  I  am  any  judge  of  symptoms;  but 
then,  dear,  men  are  often  in  love  with  women  they  don't 
mean  to  marry." 

"Who  wants  to  marry  him,  I  should  like  to  know? 
I  'm  not  thinking  of  that." 

"Well,  then,  Eva,  perhaps  he  has  discovered  that  he 
wants  to  marry  you ;  and,  perhaps,  for  some  reason  he  regards 
that  as  impossible,  and  so  is  going  to  try  to  keep  away." 

"How  perfectly  hateful  and  stupid  of  him!  I  'd  rather 
never  have  seen  him. " 


PERTUEBATIONS  335 

"A  man  generally  has  this  advantage  over  a  woman  in 
a  matter  of  this  sort,  that  he  has  an  object  in  life  which  is 
more  to  him  than  anything  else,  and  he  can  fill  his  whole 
mind  with  that." 

"Well,  Ida,  that 's  all  very  true,  but  what  object  in  life 
can  a  girl  have  who  lives  as  we  do;  who  has  everything 
she  can  want  without  an  effort  —  I  for  instance  1  " 

"But  I  have  an  object." 

"Yes,  I  know  you  have,  but  I  am  different  from  you. 
It  would  be  as  impossible  for  me  to  do  as  you  do  as  for  a 
fish  to  walk  upright  on  dry  land." 

"Well,  Eva,  this  objectless,  rootless,  floating  kind  of 
life  that  you  and  almost  all  girls  lead  is  at  the  bottom  of 
nearly  all  your  troubles.  Literally  and  truly  you  have 
nothing  in  the  world  to  do  but  to  amuse  yourselves;  the 
consequence  is  that  you  soon  get  tired  of  almost  every  kind 
of  amusement,  and  so  every  friendship  and  flirtation  assumes 
a  disproportioned  interest  in  your  minds.  There  is  real 
danger  now  that  you  may  think  too  much  of  Mr. "  — 

"Oh,  stuff  and  nonsense,  Ida!  I  ivon't,  so  there!  I'll 
put  him  out  of  my  head  forthwith  and  bolt  the  door. 
Give  me  a  good  stiff  dose  of  reading,  Ida;  one  of  your 
dullest  scientific  books,  and  get  me  to  write  you  an  analysis 
of  it  as  we  did  at  school.  Here,  let  me  see,  '  Descent  of 
Man.'  Come,  now,  I  '11  sit  down  and  go  at  it." 

Eva  sits  down  with  book,  pencil,  and  paper,  and  turns 
over  the  leaves.  "Let 's  try  how  it  looks.  '  Sexual  Selec 
tion  ' !  Oh,  horrid !  *  Her  Ape-like  Proportions  ' !  I 
should  be  ashamed  to  talk  so  about  my  ancestors.  Apes! 
—  of  all  things  —  why  not  some  more  respectable  animal  ? 
lions  or  horses,  for  example.  You  remember  Swift's  story 
about  the  houyhnhnms.  Is  n't  this  a  dreadfully  dull  book, 
Ida!" 

"No,  I  don't  find  it  so.  I  am  deeply  interested  in  it, 
though  I  admit  it  is  pretty  heavy." 


336  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

"But,  then,  Ida,  you  see  it  goes  against  the  Bible, 
doesn't  it?" 

"Not  necessarily  as  I  see." 

"Why,  yes;  to  be  sure.  I  haven't  read  it;  but  Mr. 
Henderson  gave  me  the  clearest  kind  of  a  sketch  of  the 
argument,  and  that  is  the  way  it  impressed  me.  That  to 
be  sure  is  among  the  things  I  principally  value  him  for; 
he  is  my  milk-skimmer;  he  gets  all  the  cream  that  rises  on 
a  book  and  presents  it  to  me  in  a  portable  form.  I  remem 
ber  one  of  the  very  last  really  comfortable  long  talks  we 
had;  it  was  on  this  subject,  and  I  told  him  that  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  modern  theory  and  the  Bible  were  point- 
blank  opposites.  Instead  of  men  being  a  fallen  race,  they 
are  a  rising  race,  and  never  so  high  as  now;  and  then, 
what  becomes  of  the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  St.  Paul  ?  Now, 
for  my  part,  I  told  Mr.  Henderson  I  wasn't  going  to  give 
up  all  the  splendid  poetry  of  Milton  and  the  Bible,  just 
because  Mr.  Darwin  took  it  into  his  head  that  it  was  not  im 
probable  that  my  seventy-fifth  millionth  grandfather  might 
have  been  a  big  baboon  with  green  nose  and  pointed  ears ! " 

"My  dear  Eva,  you  have  capital  reasons  for  believing 
and  not  believing.  You  believe  what  seems  most  agree 
able  and  poetic." 

"Exactly,  Ida;  and  in  those  far-off  regions,  sixteen 
million  billion  ages  ago,  why  should  n't  I?  Nobody  knows 
what  happened  there;  nobody  has  been  there  to  see  what 
made  the  first  particle  of  jelly  take  to  living,  and  turn  into 
a  germ  cell,  and  then  go  working  on  like  yeast,  till  it 
worked  out  into  all  the  things  we  see.  I  think  it  a  good 
deal  easier  to  believe  the  Garden  of  Eden  story,  especially 
as  that  is  pretty  ?nd  poetical,  and  is  in  the  dear  old  Book 
that  is  so  sweet  and  comfortable  to  us ;  but  then  Mr.  Hen 
derson  insists  that  even  if  we  do  hold  the  Evolution  theory, 
the  old  Book  will  be  no  less  true.  I  never  saw  a  man  of 
so  much  thought  who  had  so  much  reverence." 


PERTURBATIONS  337 

"I  thought  yon  were  going  to  study  Darwin  and  not 
think  of  him,"  said  Ida. 

"Well,  somehow,  almost  everything  puts  me  in  mind 
of  him,  because  we  have  had  such  long  talks  about  every 
thing  ;  and,  Ida,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  do  believe  I  am  intel 
lectually  lazy.  I  don't  like  rough  hard  work,  I  like  pol 
ishing  and  furbishing.  Now,  I  want  a  man  to  go  through 
all  this  rough,  hard,  stupid,  disagreeable  labyrinth  of  sci 
entific  terms,  and  pick  out  the  meaning  and  put  it  into 
a  few,  plain  words,  and  then  I  take  it  and  brighten  it  up 
and  put  on  the  rainbows.  Look  here,  now,  think  of  my 
having  to  scrabble  through  a  bog  like  this  in  the  '  Origin 
of  Species :  '  — 

'"In  Carthamus  and  some  other  composite  the  central 
achenes  alone  are  furnished  with  a  pappus ;  and  in  Hyoseris 
the  same  head  yields  achenes  of  three  different  forms.  In 
certain  Umbelliferae  the  exterior  seeds,  according  to  Tanch, 
are  orthospermous,  and  the  central  one  ccelospermous,  and 
this  difference  has  been  considered  by  De  Candolle  as  of 
the  highest  systematic  importance  in  the  family. ' 

"Now  all  this  is  just  as  unintelligible  to  me  as  if  it  were 
written  in  Choctaw.  I  don't  know  enough  to  know  what 
it  means,  and  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  care  enough  to  know.  I 
want  to  know  the  upshot  of  the  whole  in  good  plain  Eng 
lish,  and  then  see  whether  I  can  believe  it  or  not;  and 
isn't  it  a  shame  that  things  are  so  that  one  cannot  have  a 
sensible  man  to  be  one's  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend 
without  this  everlasting  marriage  question  coming  up  1  If 
a  woman  makes  an  effort  to  get  or  keep  a  valuable  friend, 
she  is  supposed  to  be  intriguing  and  making  unfeminine 
efforts  for  a  husband.  Now  this  poor  man  is  perfectly 
wretched  about  something  —  for  I  can  see  he  has  really 
gone  off  shockingly,  and  looks  thin  and  haggard,  and  I 
can't  just  write  him  a  note  and  ask  him  to  come  and  finish 
his  resume*  of  Darwin  for  me  without  going  over  the  boun- 


338  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

daries;  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  it  is  7  who  set  these  limits 
—  I  myself  who  am  a  world  too  proud  to  say  the  first  word 
or  give  the  slightest  indication  that  his  absence  isn't  quite 
as  agreeable  as  his  presence." 

"Well,  Eva,  I  can  write  a  note  and  request  him  to  call 
and  see  me,"  said  Ida,  "and  if  you  like,  I  will.  I  have 
no  sort  of  fear  what  he  will  think  of  me." 

"I  would  not  have  you  for  the  world.  It  would  look 
like  an  advance  on  our  part  —  no  indeed.  These  creatures 
are  so  conceited,  if  they  once  find  out  that  you  can't  do 
without  them  "  — 

"  I  never  observed  any  signs  of  conceit  in  Mr.  Hender 
son." 

"Well,  I  have  made  it  an  object  to  keep  him  a  little 
humble,  so  far  as  his  sex  will  permit,  you  see.  But  seri 
ously,  Ida,  is  not  it  curious  about  this  marriage  matter? 
Everybody  says  it 's  what  we  are  made  for,  all  the  novels 
end  with  it,  all  the  poems  are  about  it,  you  are  hearing 
about  it  in  one  way  or  other  all  the  time ;  and  yet  all  this 
while  you  are  supposed  not  to  care  anything  about  it  one 
way  or  the  other.  If  a  man  be  ever  so  agreeable  to  you, 
and  do  ever  so  much  to  make  you  like  him,  you  must  pre 
tend  that  you  are  quite  indifferent  to  him,  and  don't  care 
whether  he  comes  or  goes,  until  such  time  as  he  chooses 
to  launch  the  tremendous  question  at  you." 

"Well,"  said  Ida,  "I  admit  that  there  is  just  this  ab 
surdity  in  our  life;  but  I  avoid  it  all  by  firmly  laying  a 
plan  of  my  own,  and  having  a  business  of  my  own.  To 
me  marriage  would  be  an  interruption;  it  would  require 
a  breaking  up  and  reconstruction  of  my  whole  plan,  and  of 
course  I  really  think  nothing  about  it." 

"  But  are  you  firmly  resolved  never  to  marry  1 " 

"No;  but  never,  unless  I  find  some  one  more  to  me 
than  all  on  which  I  have  set  my  heart.  I  do  not  need  it 
for  my  happiness.  I  am  sufficient  to  myself;  and  besides 


PERTURBATIONS  339 

I  have  an  object  I  hope  to  attain,  and  that  is  to  open  a 
way  by  which  many  other  women  shall  secure  independence 
and  comfort  and  ease." 

"Deary  me,  Ida,  I  wish  I  were  like  you:  but  I  'm  not. 
It  seems  to  me  that  the  only  way  to  give  most  girls  any 
concentration  or  object  is  to  marry  them.  Then,  some 
how,  things  seem  to  arrange  themselves,  and,  at  all  events, 
the  world  stops  talking  about  you,  and  wondering  what 
you  are  going  to  do ;  they  get  you  off  their  minds.  That 
I  do  believe  was  the  reason  why  at  one  time  I  came  so 
near  drifting  into  that  affair  with  Wat  Sydney.  Aunt 
Maria  was  so  vigorous  with  me  and  talked  in  such  a  com 
manding  manner,  and  with  so  many  l  of  courses, '  that  I 
really  began  to  think  I  was  one  of  the  '  of  courses  '  myself ; 
but  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Henderson  has  shown  me 
that  it  would  be  intolerable  to  live  with  a  man  that  you 
couldn't  talk  with  about  everything  that  comes  into  your 
head;  and  now  I  can't  talk  with  him,  and  I  won't  marry 
Wat  Sydney ;  and  so  what  is  to  be  done  1  Shall  I  go  to 
Stewart's  and  buy  me  a  new  suit  of  Willow  Green,  or  gird 
up  the  loins  of  my  mind  and  go  through  Darwin  like  a 
man,  and  look  out  all  the  terms  in  the  dictionary  and  come 
out  the  other  side  a  strong-minded  female  1  or  shall  I  go 
and  join  the  Sisters  of  St.  John,  and  wear  a  great  white 
cape  and  gray  gown,  and  have  all  the  world  say  I  did  it 
because  I  could  n't  get  Wat  Sydney  (for  that  's  exactly 
what  they  would  say),  or  what  shall  I  do  ?  The  trouble  is, 
mamma  and  Aunt  Maria  with  their  expectations.  It 's 
much  as  mamma  can  do  to  survive  your  course,  and  if  I 
take  to  having  a  '  purpose  '  too,  I  don't  know  but  mamma 
would  commit  suicide,  poor  dear  woman." 

(Enter  Alice  with  empressement.) 

"Girls,  what  do  you  think?  Wat  Sydney  come  back 
and  going  to  give  a  great  croquet  party  out  at  Clairmont, 
and  of  course  we  are  all  invited  with  notes  in  the  most  re- 


340  MY    WIFE   AND   I 

splendent  style,  with  crest  and  coat-of-arms,  and  everything 
—  perfectly  'mag  '  !  There  's  to  be  a  steamboat  with  a  band 
of  music  to  take  the  guests  up,  and  no  end  of  splendid  do 
ings;  marquees  and  tents  and  illuminations  and  fireworks, 
and  to  return  by  moonlight  after  all 's  over ;  is  n't  it  lovely  ? 
I  do  think  Wat  Sydney  's  perfectly  splendid!  and  it 's  all 
on  your  account,  Eva,  I  know  it  is." 

"Pooh,  nonsense,  you  absurd  child,  I  don't  believe  it. 
I  dare  say  it 's  a  party  just  to  proclaim  that  he  is  engaged 
to  somebody  else." 

"Do  you  know,"  added  Alice,  "I  met  Jim  Fellows,  and 
he  says  everybody  is  wild  about  this  party — just  stark, 
tearing  wild  about  it  —  for  it  isn't  going  to  be  a  crush  — 
something  very  select." 

"Is  Jim  going?" 

"Yes,  he  showed  me  his  ticket  and  Henderson's,  and  he 
declared  he  was  going  to  take  '  Hal, '  as  he  called  him,  spite 
of  his  screams ;  he  said  that  he  had  been  writing  and  study 
ing  and  moping  himself  to  death,  and  that  he  should  drag 
him  out  by  the  hair  of  the  head.  Come,  Eva,  let 's  go 
down  to  Tullegig's  and  have  a  '  kank  '  about  costumes.  I 
haven't  a  thing  fit  to  wear,  nor  you  either." 


CHAPTEE   XXX 

THE    FATES 

BOLTOX'S  letter  excited  in  my  mind  a  tumult  of  feeling. 
From  the  beginning  of  my  acquaintance  I  had  regarded 
him  with  daily  increasing  admiration.  Young  men  like  a 
species  of  mental  fealty  —  a  friendship  that  seems  to  draw 
them  upward  and  give  them  an  ideal  of  something  above 
themselves.  Bolton's  ripe,  elegant  scholarship,  his  rare, 
critical  taste,  his  calm  insight  into  men  and  things,  and  the 
depth  of  his  moral  judgment,  had  inspired  me  with  admira 
tion,  and  his  kindness  for  me  with  gratitude.  It  had  al 
ways  been  an  additional  source  of  interest  that  there  was 
something  veiled  about  him  —  something  that  I  could  not 
exactly  make  out.  This  letter,  so  dignified  in  its  melan 
choly  frankness,  seemed  to  let  me  into  the  secret  of  his  life. 
It  showed  me  the  reason  of  that  sort  of  sad  and  weary  tol 
erance  with  which  he  seemed  to  regard  life  and  its  instincts, 
so  different  from  the  fiery,  forward-looking  hope  of  youth. 
He  had  impressed  me  from  the  first  as  one  who  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  endure  all  things  and  hope  for  nothing. 
To  keep  watch  every  moment,  to  do  the  duty  of  the  hour 
thoroughly,  bravely,  faithfully,  as  a  sentinel  paces  through 
wind,  rain,  and  cold  —  neither  asking  why,  nor  uttering 
complaints  —  such  seemed  to  be  Bolton's  theory  of  life. 

The  infirmity  which  he  laid  open  to  my  view  was  one, 
to  be  sure,  attributable  in  the  first  place  to  the  thoughtless 
wrong-doing  of  confident  youth.  Yet,  in  its  beginning, 
how  little  there  was  in  it  that  looked  like  the  deep  and  ter 
rible  tragedy  to  which  it  was  leading!  Out  of  every  ten 


342  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

young  men  who  begin  the  use  of  stimulants  as  a  social  ex 
hilaration,  there  are  perhaps  five  in  whose  breast  lies  coiled 
up  and  sleeping  this  serpent,  destined  in  after-years  to  be 
the  deadly  tyrant  of  their  life  —  this  curse,  unappeasable  by 
tears  or  prayers  or  agonies  —  with  whom  the  struggle  is  like 
that  of  Laocoon  with  the  hideous  Python.  Yet  songs  and 
garlands  and  poetry  encircle  the  wine-cup,  and  ridicule  and 
contumely  are  reserved  for  him  who  fears  to  touch  it. 

There  was  about  this  letter  such  a  patient  dignity,  such 
an  evident  bracing  of  the  wrhole  man  to  meet  in  the  bravest 
manner  the  hard  truth  of  the  situation,  and  such  a  disinter 
ested  care  for  others,  as  were  to  me  inexpressibly  touching. 
I  could  not  help  feeling  that  he  judged  and  sentenced  him 
self  too  severely,  and  that  this  was  a  case  where  a  noble 
woman  might  fitly  co-work  with  a  man,  and  by  doubling 
his  nature  give  it  double  power  of  resistance  and  victory. 

I  went  hastily  up  to  his  room  with  the  letter  in  my 
hand  after  reading  it.  It  was  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening 
twilight,  but  I  could  see  him  sitting  there  gazing  out  of  the 
window  at  the  fading  sky;  yet  it  was  too  dark  for  either 
of  us  to  see  the  face  of  the  other.  There  are  some  con 
versations  that  can  only  be  held  in  darkness  —  the  visible 
presence  of  the  bodily  form  is  an  impediment  —  in  dark 
ness  spirit  speaks  directly  to  spirit. 

"Bolton,"  I  said,  "I  am  yours  to  every  intent  and  pur 
pose,  yours  for  life  and  death." 

"And  after,"  he  said  in  a  deep  undertone,  grasping  my 
hand.  "  I  knew  you  would  be,  Harry. " 

"But,  Bolton,  you  judge  yourself  too  severely.  Why 
should  you  put  from  yourself  the  joys  that  other  men,  not 
half  so  good  as  you,  claim  eagerly  1  If  I  were  a  woman 
like  Caroline,  I  can  feel  that  I  would  rather  share  life  with 
you,  in  all  your  dangers  and  liabilities,  than  with  many 
another." 

He  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said  slowly,  "It  is  well 


THE   FATES  343 

for  Caroline  that  she  has  not  this  feeling ;  she  probably  has 
by  this  time  forgotten  me,  and  I  would  not  for  the  world 
take  the  responsibility  of  trying  to  call  back  the  feeling  she 
once  had." 

At  this  moment  my  thoughts  went  back  over  many 
scenes,  and  the  real  meaning  of  all  Caroline's  life  came  to 
me.  I  appreciated  the  hardness  of  that  lot  of  women  which 
condemns  them  to  be  tied  to  one  spot  and  one  course  of 
employment,  when  needing  to  fly  from  the  atmosphere  of 
an  unhappy  experience.  I  thought  of  the  blank  stillness 
of  the  little  mountain  town  where  her  life  had  been  passed, 
of  her  restlessness  and  impatience,  of  that  longing  to  fly  to 
new  scenes  and  employments  that  she  had  expressed  to  me 
on  the  eve  of  my  starting  for  Europe;  yet  she  had  told  me 
her  story,  leaving  out  the  one  vital  spot  in  it.  I  remem 
bered  her  saying  that  she  had  never  seen  the  man  with 
whom  she  would  think  of  marriage  without  a  shudder. 
"Was  it  because  she  had  forgotten  1  Or  was  it  that  woman 
never  even  to  herself  admits  that  thought  in  connection 
with  one  who  seems  to  have  forgotten  her?  Or  had  her 
father  so  harshly  painted  the  picture  of  her  lover  that  she 
had  been  led  to  believe  him  utterly  vile  and  unprincipled  1 
Perhaps  his  proud  silence  had  been  interpreted  by  her  as 
the  silence  of  indifference;  perhaps  she  looked  back  on 
their  acquaintance  with  indignation  that  she  should  have 
been  employed  merely  to  diversify  the  leisure  of  a  rusti 
cated  student  and  abandoned  character.  Whatever  the  ex 
perience  might  be,  Caroline  had  carried  it  through  silently. 

Her  gay,  indifferent,  brilliant  manner  of  treating  any  ap 
proach  to  matters  of  the  heart,  as  if  they  were  the  very  last 
subjects  in  which  she  could  be  supposed  to  have  any  ex 
perience  or  interest,  had  been  a  complete  blind  to  me,  nor 
could  I,  through  this  dazzling  atmosphere,  form  the  least 
conjecture  as  to  how  the  land  actually  lay. 

In  my  former  letters  to  her  I  had  dwelt  a  good  deal  on 


344  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Bolton,  and  mentioned  the  little  fact  of  finding  her  photo 
graph  in  his  room.  In  reply,  in  a  postscript  at  the  end  of 
a  letter  about  everything  else,  there  was  a  brief  notice. 
"The  Mr.  Bolton  you  speak  of  taught  the  Academy  in  our 
place  while  you  were  away  at  college  —  and  of  course  I  was 
one  of  his  scholars  —  but  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  of  him 
since.  I  was  very  young  then,  and  it  seems  like  something 
in  a  preexistent  state  to  be  reminded  of  him.  I  believed 
him  very  clever,  then,  but  was  not  old  enough  to  form 
much  of  an  opinion."  I  thought  of  all  this  as  I  sat 
silently  in  the  dark  with  Bolton. 

"Are  you  sure,"  I  said,  "that  you  consult  for  Caroline's 
best  happiness  in  doing  as  you  have  done  1 " 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  at  last  he  said  with  a  deep- 
drawn  breath:  — 

"Yes.      I  am  sure,  the  less  I  am  to  her  the  better." 

"But  may  not  your  silence  and  apparent  neglect  and  in 
difference  have  given  pain  ?  " 

"Probably;  but  they  helped  her  to  cease  caring  for  me; 
it  was  necessary  that  she  should." 

"Bolton,  you  are  morbid  in  your  estimate  of  yourself." 

"You  do  not  know  all,  Hal;  nor  what  nor  where  I  have 
been.  I  have  been  swept  far  out  to  sea,  plunged  under 
deep  waters,  all  the  waves  and  billows  have  been  over  me. " 

"Yet  now,  Bolton,  surely  you  are  on  firm  land.  No  man 
is  more  established,  more  reliable,  more  useful." 

"Yet,"  he  said  with  a  kind  of  shudder,  "all  this  I  might 
lose  in  a  moment.  The  other  day  when  I  dined  with  ties- 
termann,  the  good  fellow  had  his  wines  in  all  frank  fellow 
ship  and  pressed  them  on  me,  and  the  very  smell  distracted 
me.  I  looked  at  the  little  glass  in  which  he  poured  some 
particularly  fine  sherry,  and  held  to  me  to  taste,  and  thought 
it  was  like  so  much  heart's  blood.  If  I  had  taken  one 
taste,  just  one,  I  should  have  been  utterly  worthless  and 
unreliable  for  weeks.  Yet  Hestermann  could  not  under- 


THE   FATES  345 

stand  this;  nobody  can,  except  one  who  has  been  through 
my  bitter  experience.  One  sip  would  flash  to  the  brain  like 
fire,  and  then,  all  fear,  all  care,  all  conscience  would  be 
gone,  and  not  one  glass,  but  a  dozen  would  be  inevitable, 
and  then  you  might  have  to  look  for  me  in  some  of  those 
dens  to  which  the  possessed  of  the  devil  flee  when  the  fit 
is  on  them,  and  where  they  rave  and  tear  and  cut  them 
selves  with  stones  till  the  madness  is  worn  out.  This  has 
happened  to  me  over  and  over,  after  long  periods  of  self- 
denial  and  self-control  and  illusive  hope.  It  seems  to  me 
that  my  experience  is  like  that  of  a  man  whom  some  cruel 
fiend  condemns  to  go  through  all  the  agonies  of  drowning 
over  and  over  again  —  the  dark  plunge,  the  mad  struggle, 
the  suffocation,  the  horror,  the  agony,  the  clutch  at  the 
shore,  the  weary  clamber  up  steep  rocks,  the  sense  of  relief, 
recovery,  and  hope,  only  to  be  wrenched  off  and  thrown 
back  to  struggle,  and  strangle,  and  sink  again." 

He  spoke  with  such  a  deep  intensity  of  voice  that  I  drew 
in  my  breath,  and  a  silence  as  of  the  grave  fell  between  us. 

"Harry,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "you  know  we  read  in 
the  Greek  tragedies  of  men  and  women  whom  the  gods 
have  smitten  with  unnatural  and  guilty  purposes,  in  which 
they  were  irresistibly  impelled  toward  what  they  abomi 
nated  and  shuddered  at!  Is  it  not  strange  that  the  Greek 
fable  should  have  a  real  counterpart  in  the  midst  of  our 
modern  life  1  That  young  men  in  all  the  inexperience  and 
thoughtlessness  of  youth  should  be  beguiled  into  just  such  a 
fatality ;  that  there  should  be  a  possibility  that  they  could 
be  blighted  by  just  such  a  doom,  and  yet  that  song,  and 
poetry,  and  social  illusion,  and  society  customs  should  all  be 
thrown  around  courses  which  excite  and  develop  this  fatal 
ity  !  What  opera  is  complete  without  its  drinking  chorus  1 
I  remember  when  it  used  to  be  my  forte  to  sing  drinking 
songs;  so  the  world  goes!  Men  triumph  and  rejoice  going 
to  a  doom  to  which  death  is  a  trifle.  If  I  had  fallen  dead, 


346  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

the  first  glass  of  wine  I  tasted,  it  would  have  been  thought 
a  horrible  thing;  but  it  would  have  been  better  for  my 
mother,  better  for  me,  than  to  have  lived  as  I  did." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  Bolton!  don't  say  so;  you  become  morbid 
in  dwelling  on  this  subject." 

"ISTo,  Hal.  I  only  know  more  of  it  than  you.  This 
curse  has  made  life  an  unspeakable  burden,  a  doom  instead 
of  a  privilege.  It  has  disappointed  my  friends,  and  sub 
jected  me  to  such  humiliations  and  agonies  that  death  seems 
to  me  a  refuge;  and  yet  it  was  all  in  its  beginning  mere 
thoughtlessness  and  ignorance.  I  was  lost  before  I  knew 
it." 

"But  you  are  not  lost,  and  you  shall  not  be!"  I  ex 
claimed.  "  You  are  good  for  more  than  most  men  now,  and 
you  will  come  through  this." 

"Never!  to  be  just  as  others  are.  I  shall  be  a  vessel 
with  a  crack  in  it,  always." 

"  Well,  a  vase  of  fine  porcelain  with  a  crack  in  it  is 
better  than  earthenware  without,"  I  said. 

"If  I  had  not  disappointed  myself  and  my  friends  so 
often,"  said  Bolton,  "I  might  look  on  myself  as  sound  and 
sane.  But  the  mere  sight  and  smell  of  the  wine  at  Hester- 
mann's  dinner  gave  me  a  giddy  sensation  that  alarmed  me; 
it  showed  that  I  was  not  yet  out  of  danger,  and  it  made 
me  resolve  to  strengthen  myself  by  making  you  my  keeper. 
You  have  the  advantage  of  perfectly  healthy  nerves  that 
have  come  to  manhood  without  the  strain  of  any  false 
stimulus,  and  you  can  be  strong  for  both  of  us." 

"  God  grant  it !  "  said  I  earnestly. 

"But  I  warn  you  that,  if  the  curse  comes  upon  me,  you 
are  not  to  trust  me.  I  am  a  Christian  and  a  man  of  honor 
in  my  sane  moments,  but  let  me  tell  you,  one  glass  of  wine 
would  make  me  a  liar  on  this  subject.  I  should  lie,  and 
intrigue,  and  deceive  the  very  elect,  to  get  at  the  miserable 
completion  of  the  aroused  fury,  and  there  are  times  when 


THE   FATES  347 

I  am  so  excited  that  I  fear  I  may  take  that  first  irrevocable 
step ;  it  is  a  horror,  a  nightmare,  a  temptation  of  the  Devil, 
—  for  that  there  is  a  devil,  men  with  my  experience  know ; 
but  there  is  a  kind  of  safety  in  having  a  friend  of  a  steady 
pulse  with  me  who  knows  all.  The  mere  fact  that  you  do 
know  helps  hold  me  firm." 

"Bolton,"  said  I,  "the  situation  you  offer  to  Caroline 
in  the  care  of  the  '  Ladies'  Cabinet '  will  of  course  oblige 
her  to  come  to  New  York.  Shall  you  meet  her  and  renew 
your  acquaintance  ? " 

"I  do  not  desire  to,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  slight  hesitancy  and  faltering  of  his  voice 
as  he  spoke. 

"  Yet  it  can  hardly  be  possible  that  you  will  not  meet; 
you  will  have  arrangements  to  make  with  her." 

"That  is  one  of  the  uses,  among  others,  of  having  you. 
All  that  relates  to  her  affairs  will  pass  through  you;  and 
now,  let  us  talk  of  the  magazine  and  its  programme  for  the 
season.  What  is  the  reason,  Hal,  that  you  waste  your 
forces  in  short  sketches?  Why  do  you  not  boldly  dash 
out  into  a  serial  story  1  Come,  now,  I  am  resolved  among 
other  things  on  a  serial  story  by  Harry  Henderson." 

"And  I  will  recommend  a  taking  title,"  cried  Jim  Fel 
lows,  who  came  in  as  we  were  talking,  and  stood  behind 
my  chair.  "Let  us  have 

HENDERSON'S   HORROR;    OR,   THE  MYSTERY  OF 
THE   BLOODY  LATCH-KEY. 

There  's  a  title  to  take  with  the  reflecting  public !  The 
readers  of  serials  are  generally  girls  from  twelve  to  twenty, 
and  they  read  them  with  their  back  hair  down,  lounging  on 
the  bed,  just  before  a  nap  after  dinner,  and  there  must  be 
enough  blood  and  thunder,  and  murder  and  adultery  and 
mystery  in  them  to  keep  the  dear  creatures  reading  at  least 
half  an  hour." 


348  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

"I  think  serial  stories  are  about  played  out  in  our  day," 
said  I. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  There  's  sister  Nell,  don't  read  any 
thing  else.  She  is  regularly  running  on  five  serial  stories, 
and  among  them  all  they  keep  her  nicely  a-going;  and  she 
tells  me  that  the  case  is  the  same  with  all  the  girls  in  her 
set.  The  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  human  nature 
that  the  pretty  creatures  get  in  this  way  is  something 
quite  astounding.  Nell  is  at  present  deeply  interested  in 
a  fair  lady  who  connives  with  her  chambermaid  to  pass  off 
her  illegitimate  child  upon  her  husband  as  his  own;  and 
we  have  lying  and  false  swearing  —  I  say  nothing  of  all 
other  kinds  of  interesting  things  —  on  every  page.  ,  Of  course 
this  is  written  as  a  moral  lesson,  and  interspersed  with 
pious  reflections  to  teach  girls  as  how  they  had  n't  oughter 
do  so  and  so.  All  this,  you  see,  has  a  refining  effect  upon 
the  rising  generation." 

"But,  really,  Bolton,  don't  you  think  that  it  is  treating 
our  modern  society  as  children,  to  fall  in  with  this  extreme 
fashion  of  story-telling?  It  seems  so  childish  to  need 
pictures  and  stories  for  everything.  Isn't  your  magazine 
strong  enough  to  lead  and  form  public  taste  instead  of  fol 
lowing  it  1 " 

"Well,  if  I  owned  my  magazine  I  would  try  it,"  said 
Bolton.  "But,  you  see,  the  Hestermanns,  while  they  give 
me  carte  blanche  as  to  means  to  run  it,  expect  of  course 
that  it  is  to  be  run  in  the  approved  popular  grooves  that 
the  dear  thoughtless  ten  million  prefer.  The  people  who 
lounge  on  beds  after  dinner  are  our  audience,  and  there 
must  be  nothing  wiser  nor  stronger  than  they  can  appre 
hend  between  sleeping  and  waking.  We  talk  to  a  blase, 
hurried,  unreflecting,  indolent  generation,  who  want  emo 
tion  and  don't  care  for  reason.  Something  sharp  and 
spicy,  something  pungent  and  stinging  —  no  matter  what 
or  whence.  And  now  as  they  want  this  sort  of  thing, 


THE   FATES  349 

why  not  give  it  to  them?  Are  there  no  other  condiments 
for  seasoning  stories  besides  intrigues,  lies,  murders,  and 
adulteries  ?  And  if  the  young  and  unreflecting  will  read 
stories,  should  n't  some  of  the  thoughtful  and  reflecting 
make  stories  for  them  to  read  1 " 

"Of  course  they  should,  Q.  E.  D.,"  said  Jim  Fellows, 
touching  the  gas  with  a  match,  and  sending  a  flare  of  light 
upon  our  conference.  "But  come,  now,  behold  the  last 
novelty  of  the  season,"  said  he,  tossing  two  cards  of  invi 
tation.  "This  is  for  us,  as  sons  of  the  press  and  record 
ing  angels,  to  be  present  at  Wat  Sydney's  grand  blow-out 
next  Tuesday.  All  the  rank  and  fashion  are  to  go.  It  is 
to  be  very  select,  and  there  are  people  who  would  give 
their  eye-teeth  for  these  cards,  and  can't  get  'em.  How 
do  ye  say,  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain,  will  you  go  ? " 

"No,"  said  Bolton;   "not  my  line." 

"Well,  at  all  events,  Hal  has  got  to  go.  I  promised 
the  fair  Alice  that  I  'd  bring  him  if  I  had  to  take  him  by 
the  hair." 

I  had  a  great  mind  to  decline.  I  thought  in  my  heart 
it  was  not  at  all  the  wisest  thing  for  me  to  go;  but  then, 
Amare  et  sapere  vix  Deo  —  I  had  never  seen  Sydney, 
and  I  had  a  restless  desire  to  see  him  and  Eva  together  — 
and  I  thought  of  forty  good  reasons  why  I  should  go. 


CHAPTEE   XXXI 

THE    GAME    OF    CROQUET 

Now  I  advise  all  serious,  sensible  individuals  who  never 
intend  to  do  anything  that  is  not  exactly  most  reasonable 
and  most  prudent,  and  who  always  do  exactly  as  they  in 
tend,  not  to  follow  my  steps  on  the  present  occasion,  for 
I  am  going  to  do  exactly  what  is  not  to  be  recommended 
to  young  gentlemen  in  my  situation,  and  certainly  what  is 
not  at  all  prudent.  For  if  a  young  man  finds  himself, 
without  recall,  hopelessly  in  love  with  one  whose  smiles 
are  all  for  another,  his  best  way  is  to  keep  out  of  her  soci 
ety,  and  in  a  course  of  engrossing  business  that  will  leave 
him  as  little  time  to  think  of  her  as  possible. 

I  had  every  advantage  for  pursuing  this  course,  for  I 
had  a  press  of  writing  upon  me,  finishing  up  a  batch  of 
literary  job-work  which  I  wished  to  get  fairly  out  of  the 
way  so  that  I  might  give  my  whole  energies  to  Bolton  in 
our  new  enterprise.  In  fact,  to  go  off  philandering  to  a 
croquet  party  up  the  North  Eiver  was  a  sheer  piece  of 
childish  folly,  and  the  only  earthly  reason  I  could  really 
give  for  it  was  the  presence  of  a  woman  there  that  I  had  re 
solved  to  avoid.  In  fact,  I  felt  that  the  thing  was  so  alto 
gether  silly  that  I  pretended  to  myself  that  I  was  impreg- 
nably  resolved  against  it,  and  sat  myself  down  in  Bolton's 
room  making  abstracts  from  some  of  his  books,  knowing  all 
the  while  that  Jim  would  seek  me  out  there  and  have  his 
moral  fish-hook  fast  in  my  coat-collar,  as  in  truth  he  did. 

"Come,  come,  Hal,"  he  said,  bursting  in,  "I  promised 
the  divinest  of  her  sex  to  bring  you  along." 


THE   GAME   OF   CROQUET  351 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Jim!  it's  out  of  the  question,"  said  I. 
"I  've  got  to  get  this  article  done." 

"Oh,  you  be  hanged  with  your  article!  Come  along! 
What 's  the  use  of  a  fellow's  shutting  himself  up  with 
books  ?  I  tell  you,  Hal,  if  you  're  going  to  write  for  folks 
you  must  see  folks  and  folks  must  see  you,  and  you  must 
be  around  and  into  and  a  part  of  all  that 's  going  on. 
Come  on!  Why,  you  don't  know  the  honor  done  you. 
It 's  a  tip-top  select  party,  and  all  the  handsomest  girls 
and  all  the  nobby  fellows  will  be  there,  and  no  end  of  fun. 
Sydney's  place  alone  is  worth  going  to  see.  It 's  the  crack 
place  on  the  river;  and  then  they  say  the  engagement  is 
going  to  be  declared,  and  everybody  is  wild  to  know 
whether  it  is  or  isn't  to  be,  and  the  girls  are  furbishing  up 
fancy  suits  to  croquet  in.  Miss  Alice  treated  me  to  a 
glimpse  of  hers  as  I  met  her  on  Tullegig's  steps,  and  it 's 
calculated  to  drive  a  fellow  crazy,  and  so  come  now,"  said 
Jim,  pulling  away  my  papers  and  laying  hold  of  me,  "let 's 
go  out  and  get  some  gloves  and  proceed  to  make  ourselves 
up.  We  have  the  press  to  represent,  and  we  must  be 
nobby,  so  hang  expense !  here  's  for  Jouvin's  best,  and  let 
to-morrow  take  care  of  itself." 

Now,  seconding  all  these  temptations  was  that  perverse 
inclination  that  makes  every  man  want  to  see  a  little  more 
and  taste  a  little  more  of  what  he  has  had  too  much  already. 
Moreover  I  wanted  to  see  Eva  and  Wat  Sydney  together. 
I  wanted  to  be  certain  and  satisfy  myself  with  my  own 
eyes  not  only  that  they  were  engaged,  but  that  she  was  in 
love  with  him.  If  she  be,  said  I  to  myself,  she  is  cer 
tainly  an  exquisite  coquette  and  a  dangerous  woman  for  me 
to  keep  up  an  acquaintance  with. 

In  thinking  over  as  I  had  done  since  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel's 
motherly  conversation  all  our  intercourse  and  acquaintance 
with  each  other,  her  conduct  sometimes  seemed  to  me  to 
be  that  of  a  veritable  "Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere,"  bent  on 


352  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

amusing  herself,  and  diversifying  the  tedium  of  fashionable 
life  by  exciting  feelings  which  she  had  no  thought  of  re 
turning.  When  I  took  this  view  of  matters  I  felt  angry 
and  contemptuous,  and  resolved  to  show  the  fair  lady  that 
I  could  be  as  indifferent  as  she.  Sometimes  I  made  myself 
supremely  wretched  by  supposing  that  it  was  by  her  desire 
that  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  had  held  the  conversation  with  me, 
and  that  it  was  a  sort  of  intimation  that  she  had  perceived 
my  feelings,  and  resolved  to  put  a  decided  check  upon 
them.  But  of  course  nothing  so  straightforward  and  sen 
sible  as  going  to  her  for  an  explanation  of  all  this  was  to 
be  thought  of.  In  fact,  our  intercourse  with  one  another 
ever  since  the  memorable  occasion  I  refer  to  had  been  daily 
lessening,  and  now  was  generally  limited  to  passing  the 
most  ordinary  commonplaces  with  each  other.  She  had 
grown  cold  and  dry,  almost  haughty,  and  I  was  conscious 
of  a  most  unnatural  rigidity  and  constraint.  It  seemed  to 
me  sometimes  astonishing  when  I  looked  back  a  little,  to 
reflect  how  perfectly  easy  and  free  and  unconstrained  we 
always  had  been  up  to  a  certain  point,  to  find  that  now  we 
met  with  so  little  enjoyment,  talked  and  said  so  little  to 
any  purpose.  It  was  as  if  some  evil  enchanter  had  touched 
us  with  his  wand,  stiffening  every  nerve  of  pleasure.  To 
look  forward  to  meeting  her  in  society  was  no  longer,  as  it 
had  been,  to  look  forward  to  delightful  hours ;  and  yet  for 
the  life  of  me  I  could  not  help  going  where  this  most  unsat 
isfactory,  tantalizing  intercourse  was  all  I  had  to  hope  for. 

But  to-day,  I  said  to  myself,  I  would  grasp  the  thorns 
of  the  situation  so  firmly  as  to  break  them  down  and  take 
a  firm  hold  on  reality.  If,  indeed,  her  engagement  were 
to-day  to  be  declared,  I  would  face  the  music  like  a  man, 
walk  up  to  her  and  present  my  congratulations  in  due  form, 
and  then  the  acquaintance  would  make  a  gallant  finale  in 
the  glare  of  wedding  lamps  and  the  fanfaronade  of  wedding 
festivities,  and  away  to  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new. 


THE   GAME   OF  CROQUET  353 

In  short,  whatever  a  man  is  secretly  inclined  to  do  there 
are  always  a  hundred  sensible  incontrovertible  reasons  to 
be  found  for  doing,  and  so  I  found  myself  one  of  the  gay 
and  festive  throng  on  board  the  steamer.  A  party  of  well- 
dressed  people  floating  up  the  North  Kiver  of  a  bright 
spring  day  is  about  as  ideal  a  picture  of  travel  as  can  be 
desired.  In  point  of  natural  scenery  the  Rhine  is  nothing 
compared  with  the  Hudson,  and  our  American  steamboats 
certainly  are  as  far  ahead  of  any  that  ever  appeared  on  the 
Ehine  as  Aladdin's  palace  is  ahead  of  an  ordinary  dwelling. 
The  most  superb  boat  on  the  river  had  been  retained  for 
the  occasion,  and  a  band  of  music  added  liveliness  to  the 
scene  as  we  moved  off  from  the  wharf  in  triumph,  as  gay, 
glittering,  festive  a  company  as  heart  could  wish. 

Wat  Sydney  as  host  and  entertainer  was  everywhere 
present,  making  himself  agreeable  by  the  most  devoted 
attentions  to  the  comfort  of  the  bright  band  of  tropical 
birds,  fluttering  in  silks  and  feathers  and  ribbons,  whom 
he  had  charge  of  for  the  day.  I  was  presented  to  him  by 
Jim  Fellows,  and  had  an  opportunity  to  see  that  apart  from 
his  immense  wealth  he  had  no  very  striking  personal  points 
to  distinguish  him  from  a  hundred  other  young  men  about 
him.  His  dress  was  scrupulously  adjusted,  with  a  care 
and  nicety  which  showed  that  he  was  by  no  means  without 
consideration  of  the  personal  impression  he  made.  Every 
article  was  the  choicest  and  best  that  the  most  orthodox 
fashionable  emporiums  pronounced  the  latest  thing,  or  as 
Jim  Fellows  phrased  it,  decidedly  "nobby."  He  was  of 
a  medium  height,  with  very  light  hair  and  eyes,  and  the 
thin  complexion  which  usually  attends  that  style,  and 
which,  under  the  kind  of  exposure  incident  to  a  man's  life, 
generally  tends  to  too  much  redness  of  face. 

Altogether,  my  first  running  commentary  on  the  man  as 
I  shook  hands  with  him  was,  that  if  Eva  were  in  love  with 
him  it  was  not  for  his  beauty;  yet  I  could  see  glances 


354  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

falling  on  him  on  all  sides  from  undeniably  handsome  eyes 
that  would  have  excused  any  man  for  having  a  favorable 
conceit  of  his  own  personal  presence. 

Mr.  Sydney  was  well  accustomed  to  being  the  cynosure 
of  female  eyes,  and  walked  the  deck  with  the  assured  step 
of  a  man  certain  of  pleasing.  A  rich,  good-humored  young 
man  who  manifests  himself  daily  in  splendid  turnouts,  who 
rains  down  flowers  and  confectionery  among  his  feminine 
acquaintances,  and  sends  diamonds  and  pearls  as  philopena 
presents,  certainly  does  not  need  a  romantic  style  of  beauty 
or  any  particular  degree  of  mental  culture  to  make  his  soci 
ety  more  than  acceptable.  Prudent  mammas  were  gener 
ally  of  opinion  that  the  height  of  felicity  for  a  daughter 
would  be  the  position  that  should  enable  her  to  be  the 
mistress  and  dictatrix  of  his  ample  fortune.  Mr.  Sydney 
was  perfectly  well  aware  of  this  state  of  things.  He  was 
a  man  a  little  blase  with  the  kind  attentions  of  matrons, 
and  tolerably  secure  of  the  good-will  of  very  charming 
young  ladies.  He  had  the  prestige  of  success,  and  had 
generally  carried  his  points  in  the  world  of  men  and  things. 
Miss  Eva  Van  Arsdel  had  been  the  first  young  lady  who 
had  given  him  the  novel  sensation  of  a  repulse,  and  thence 
forth  became  an  object  of  absorbing  interest  in  his  eyes. 
Under  the  careless  good-humor  of  his  general  appearance 
Sydney  had  a  constitutional  pertinacity,  a  persistence  in 
his  own  way  that  had  been  a  source  of  many  of  his  brilliant 
successes  in  business.  He  was  one  of  those  whom  obstacles 
and  difficulties  only  stimulate,  and  whose  tenacity  of  pur 
pose  increases  with  resistance.  He  was  cautious,  sagacious, 
ready  to  wait  and  watch  and  renew  the  attack  at  intervals, 
but  never  to  give  up.  To  succeed  was  a  tribute  to  his  own 
self-esteem,  and  whatever  was  difficult  of  attainment  was 
the  more  valuable. 

A  little  observation  during  the  course  of  the  first  hour 
convinced  me  that  there  was  as  yet  no  announcement  of  an 


THE   GAME   OF  CROQUET  355 

engagement.  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  and  Aunt  Maria  Wouver- 
mans,  to  be  sure,  were  on  most  balmy  and  confidential 
terms  with  Mr.  Sydney,  addressing  him  with  every  appear 
ance  of  mysterious  intimacy,  and  quite  willing  to  produce 
the  impression  that  the  whole  fete  was  in  some  manner  a 
tribute  to  the  family,  but  these  appearances  were  not  car 
ried  out  by  any  cooperative  movements  on  the  part  of  Eva 
herself.  She  appeared  radiant  in  a  fanciful  blue  croquet 
suit  which  threw  out  to  advantage  the  golden  shade  of  her 
hair  and  the  pink  sea-shell  delicacy  of  her  cheek,  and  as 
usual  she  had  her  court  around  her  and  was  managing  her 
circle  with  the  address  of  a  practiced  halituee  of  society. 

"  Favors  to  none,  to  all  she  smiles  extends, 
Oft  she  rejects,  but  never  once  offends. 
Bright  as  the  sun,  her  beams  the  gazers  strike, 
And  like  the  sun,  they  smile  on  all  alike." 

Unlike  many  of  her  sex,  Eva  had  the  faculty  of  carrying 
the  full  cup  of  bellehood  without  spilling  an  unseemly 
drop,  and  as  she  was  one  of  those  who  seem  to  have  quite 
as  much  gift  in  charming  her  feminine  as  her  masculine 
acquaintances,  she  generally  sat  surrounded  by  an  admiring 
body-guard  of  girls  who  laughed  at  her  jests  and  echoed 
her  ban  mots  and  kept  up  a  sort  of  radiant  atmosphere  of 
life  and  motion  and  gayety  around  her.  Her  constitutional 
good-nature,  her  readiness  to  admire  other  people,  and  to 
help  each  in  due  season  to  some  small  portion  of  the  ap 
plause  and  admiration  which  are  lying  about  loose  for  gen 
eral  circulation  in  society,  all  contributed  to  her  popularity. 
As  I  approached  the  circle  they  were  discussing  with  great 
animation  the  preliminaries  of  a  match  game  of  croquet 
that  was  proposed  to  be  played  at  Clairmont  to-day. 

"Oh,  here  comes  Mr.  Henderson!  let's  ask  him,"  she 
said,  as  I  approached  the  circle. 

"Don't  you  think  it  will  be  a  nice  thing?"  she  said. 
"Mr.  Sydney  has  arranged  that  after  playing  the  first 


356  MY    WIFE   AND   I 

games  as  a  trial  the  four  best  players  shall  be  elected  to 
play  a  match  game,  two  on  each  side." 

"I  think  it  will  vary  the  usual  monotony  of  croquet," 
said  I. 

"Hear  him,"  she  said  gayly,  "talk  of  the  usual  monot 
ony  of  croquet!  For  my  part,  I  think  there  is  a  constant 
variety  to  it,  no  two  games  are  ever  alike." 

"To  me,"  I  said,  "it  seems  that  after  a  certain  amount 
of  practice  the  result  is  likely  to  be  the  same  thing,  game 
after  game." 

"Girls,"  she  said,  "I  perceive  that  Mr.  Henderson  is 
used  to  carrying  all  before  him.  He  is  probably  a  cham 
pion  player  who  will  walk  through  all  the  wickets  as  a 
matter  of  course." 

"Not  at  all,"  I  said.  "On  the  contrary,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  I  should  '  booby  '  hopelessly  at  the  very  first 
wicket." 

"And  none  the  worse  for  that,"  said  Sydney.  "I've 
boobied  three  times  running,  in  the  first  of  a  game,  and  yet 
beaten;  it  gets  one's  blood  up,  and  one  will  beat." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Miss  Alice,  "the  more  my  blood 
is  up  the  less  I  can  do ;  if  I  get  excited  I  lose  my  aim,  my 
hand  trembles,  and  I  miss  the  very  simplest  move." 

"I  think  there  is  nothing  varies  so  much  as  one's  luck 
in  croquet,"  said  Eva.  "Sometimes  for  weeks  together  I 
am  sure  to  hit  every  aim  and  to  carry  every  wicket,  and 
then  all  of  a  sudden,  without  rhyme  or  reason,  I  make  the 
most  absurd  failures,  and  generally  when  I  pique  myself 
on  success." 

"I  think,  Miss  Eva,  I  remember  you  as  the  best  player 
in  Newport  last  summer,"  said  Mr.  Sydney. 

"And  likely  as  not  I  shall  fail  ingloriously  to-day,"  said 
she. 

"Well,  we  shall  all  have  a  time  for  bringing  our  hands 
in,"  said  Mr.  Sydney.  "I  have  arranged  four  croquet 


THE   GAME   OF   CROQUET  357 

grounds,  and  the  fifth  one  is  laid  out  for  the  trial  game 
with  longer  intervals  and  special  difficulties  in  the  arrange 
ment,  to  make  it  as  exciting  as  possible.  The  victorious 
side  is  to  have  a  prize." 

"  Oh,  how  splendid !  What  is  the  prize  to  be  ? "  was 
the  general  exclamation. 

"  Behold,  then ! "  said  Mr.  Sydney,  drawing  from  his 
pocket  a  velvet  case  which  when  opened  displayed  a  tiny 
croquet  mallet  wrought  in  gold  and  set  as  a  lady's  pin. 
Depending  from  it  by  four  gold  chains  were  four  little  balls 
of  emerald,  ruby,  amethyst,  and  topaz. 

"  How  perfectly  lovely  !  how  divine !  how  beautiful !  " 
were  the  sounds  that  arose  from  the  brilliant  little  circle 
that  were  in  a  moment  precipitated  upon  the  treasure. 

"You  will  really  set  them  all  by  the  ears,  Mr.  Sydney," 
said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel.  "Croquet  of  itself  is  exciting 
enough;  one  is  apt  to  lose  one's  temper." 

"You  ought  to  see  mamma  and  Mrs.  Van  Duzen  and 
Aunt  Maria  play,"  said  Eva,  "if  you  want  to  see  an  edify 
ing  game ;  it 's  too  funny.  They  are  all  so  polite  and  so 
dreadfully  courtly  and  grieved  to  do  anything  disagreeable 
to  each  other,  and  you  know  croquet  is  such  a  perfectly 
selfish,  savage,  unchristian  game;  so  when  poor  Mrs.  Van 
Duzen  is  told  that  she  ought  to  croquet  mamma's  ball  away 
from  the  wicket,  the  dear  lady  is  quite  ready  to  cry,  and 
declares  that  it  would  be  such  a  pity  to  disappoint  her,  that 
she  croquets  her  through  her  wicket,  and  looks  round  apolo 
gizing  for  her  virtues  with  such  a  pitiful  face !  *  Indeed, 
my  dear,  I  could  n't  help  it!  ' : 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Yan  Arsdel,  "I  really  think  it  is 
too  bad  when  a  poor  body  has  been  battering  and  laboring 
at  a  difficult  wicket  to  be  croqueted  back  a  dozen  times." 

"It  's  meant  for  the  culture  of  Christian  patience, 
mamma,"  said  Eva.  "Croquet  is  the  game  of  life,  you 


see." 


358  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Sydney,  rubbing  his  hands,  "and 
it  teaches  you  just  how  to  manage,  use  your  friends  to  help 
yourself  along,  and  then  croquet  them  into  good  positions; 
use  your  enemies  as  long  as  you  want  them,  and  then  send 
them  to  "  — 

"The  Devil,"  said  Jim  Fellows,  who  never  hesitated  to 
fill  up  an  emphatic  blank  in  the  conversation. 

"I  didn't  say  that,"  said  Mr.  Sydney. 

"But  you  meant  it,  all  the  same;  and  that's  the  long 
and  the  short  of  the  philosophy  of  the  game  of  life,"  said 
Jim. 

"And,"  said  I,  "one  may  read  all  sorts  of  life  histories 
in  the  game.  Some  go  on  with  a  steady  aim  and  true 
stroke,  and  make  wickets,  and  hit  balls,  yet  are  croqueted 
back  ingloriously  or  hopelessly  wired  and  lose  the  game, 
while  others  blunder  advantageously  and  are  croqueted 
along  by  skillful  partners  into  all  the  best  places." 

"There  are  few  of  us  girls  that  make  our  own  wickets 
in  life,"  said  Eva.  "We  are  all  croqueted  along  by  papas 
and  mammas." 

"And  many  a  man  is  croqueted  along  by  a  smart  wife," 
said  Sydney. 

"But  more  women  by  smart  husbands,"  said  Mrs.  Van 
Arsdel. 

On  that  there  was  a  general  exclamation,  and  the  con 
versation  forthwith  whisked  into  one  of  those  animated 
whirlwinds  that  always  arise  when  the  comparative  merits 
of  the  sexes  are  moved.  There  was  a  nutter  of  ribbons  and 
a  rustle  of  fans  and  a  laughing  cross-fire  of  sharp  sayings, 
till  the  whole  was  broken  up  by  the  announcement  that  we 
were  drawing  near  the  landing. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

THE    MATCH    GAME 

THE  lawn  at  Clairmont  made  a  brilliant  spectacle,  all 
laid  out  with  different  croquet  sets.  The  turf  was  like 
velvet,  and  adjoining  every  ground  was  a  pretty  tent,  with 
seats  and  every  commodious  provision  for  repairing  at  once 
any  temporary  derangement  of  the  feminine  toilette.  The 
fluttering  of  gay  flags  and  pennons  from  these  various  tents 
gave  an  airy  and  breezy  look  to  the  scene,  and  immediately 
we  formed  ourselves  into  sets,  and  the  games  began.  It 
had  been  arranged  that  the  preliminary  playing  should  take 
place  immediately,  and  the  match  game  be  reserved  till 
after  lunch.  The  various  fancy  costumes  of  the  players, 
lit  up  by  the  bright  sunshine,  and  contrasted  with  the 
emerald  green  of  the  lawn,  formed  a  brilliant  and  animated 
picture,  watched  with  interest  by  groups  of  non-combatants 
from  rustic  seats  under  the  trees.  Of  course  everybody 
was  a  little  nervous  in  the  trial  games,  and  there  was  the 
usual  amount  of  ill  luck,  and  of  "ohs  and  ahs  "  of  success 
or  failure.  I  made  myself  a  "booby"  twice,  in  that  unac 
countable  way  that  seems  like  fatality.  Then  suddenly, 
favored  of  the  fates,  made  two  wickets  at  once,  seized  an 
antagonist's  ball,  and  went  with  it  at  one  heat  through  the 
side  wicket,  the  middle  and  other  side  wicket  up  to  the 
stake  and  down  again,  through  the  middle  wicket  to  the 
stake  again,  and  then  struck  back  a  glorious  rover  to  join 
my  partner.  It  was  one  of  those  prodigiously  lucky  runs, 
when  one's  ball  goes  exactly  where  it  is  intended,  and  stops 
exactly  in  the  right  place,  and  though  it  was  mostly  owing 


360  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

to  good  luck,  with  the  usual  prestige  of  success  I  was  cov 
ered  with  glory  and  congratulations,  and  my  partner,  Miss 
Sophie  Elmore,  herself  a  champion  at  croquet,  was  pleased 
to  express  most  unbounded  admiration,  especially  as  our 
side  came  out  decidedly  victorious. 

Miss  Sophie,  a  neat  little  vigorous  brunette,  in  a  ravish 
ing  fancy  croquet  suit,  entered  into  the  game  with  all  that 
whole-hearted  ardor  which  makes  women  such  terrible  com 
batants. 

"Oh,  I  do  hope  that  we  shall  be  in  at  that  final  match 
game ! "  she  said,  with  a  charming  abandon  of  manner. 
"  I  should  so  like  to  beat  Eva  Van  Arsdel.  Those  Van 
Arsdels  always  expect  to  carry  all  before  them,  and  it 
rather  provokes  me,  I  confess.  Now,  with  you  to  help 
me,  Mr.  Henderson,  I  am  sure  we  could  beat." 

"Don't  put  too  much  faith  in  my  accidental  run  of 
luck,"  I  said.  "  '  One  swallow  does  not  make  a  summer. '  " 

"Oh,  I  'm  quite  sure  by  the  way  you  managed  your  game 
that  it  wasn't  luck.  But  you  see  I  want  to  try  with  Eva 
Van  Arsdel  again,  for  she  and  I  were  held  to  be  the  best 
players  at  Newport  last  summer,  and  she  beat  in  the  last 
*  rubber  '  we  played.  It  was  so  provoking — just  one  slip 
of  the  mallet  that  ruined  me !  You  know,  sometimes,  how 
your  mallet  will  turn  in  your  hands.  She  made  just  such 
a  slip  and  took  the  stroke  over  again.  Now  that  is  what 
I  never  will  do,  you  see,"  etc.,  etc. 

In  short,  I  could  see  that  for  pretty  Miss  Sophie,  at 
present,  croquet  was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  the  whole 
game  of  life,  that  every  spangle  and  every  hairpin  about 
her  was  vital  with  excitement  to  win. 

After  lunch  came  the  ballot  for  the  combatants  who  were 
to  play  the  deciding  game,  and  the  parties  elected  were: 
Miss  Sophie  Elmore,  Miss  Eva  Van  Arsdel,  Mr.  Sydney, 
and  myself. 

"Miss  Van  Arsdel,"  said  Mr.  Sydney,  "you  must  be  my 


THE   MATCH    GAME  361 

captain.  After  the  feats  that  you  and  Mr.  Henderson 
have  been  performing  it  would  be  impossible  to  allow  you 
both  on  one  side." 

"I  think  just  as  likely  as  not  you  will  be  worsted  for 
your  pains,"  said  Eva.  "I  know  Sophie  of  old  for  a  ter 
rible  antagonist,  and  when  she  pulls  on  her  croquet  gloves 
like  that,  it  means  war  to  the  knife,  and  no  quarter.  So, 
my  dear,  begin  the  tournament." 

The  wickets  were  arranged  at  extra  distances  upon  this 
trial  ground,  and  it  was  hardly  prudent  to  attempt  making 
two  wickets  at  once,  but  Miss  Sophie  played  in  the  adven 
turous  style,  and  sent  her  ball  with  a  vigorous  tap  not  only 
through  both  the  first  wickets,  but  so  far  ahead  that  it  was 
entangled  in  the  wires  of  the  middle  wicket,  in  a  way  that 
made  it  impossible  to  give  it  a  fair  stroke. 

"Now,  how  vexatious!"  she  cried. 

"I  have  two  extra  strokes  for  my  two  wickets,  but  I 
shall  make  nothing  by  it."  In  fact,  Miss  Sophie,  with 
two  nervous  hits,  succeeded  only  in  placing  her  ball  exactly 
where  with  fair  luck  the  next  player  must  be  sure  to  get  it. 

Eva  now  came  through  the  first  two  wickets,  one  at  a 
time,  and  with  a  well-directed  tap  took  possession  of  Miss 
Sophie,  who  groaned  audibly,  "Oh,  now  she's  got  me! 
well,  there  's  no  saying  now  where  she  '11  stop." 

In  fact,  Miss  Eva  performed  very  skillfully  the  role  of 
the  "cat  who  doth  play,  and  after  —  slay."  She  was  per 
fect  mistress  of  the  tactics  of  split-shots,  which  sent  her 
antagonist's  ball  one  side  the  wicket  and  hers  the  other, 
and  all  the  other  mysteries  of  the  craft,  and  she  used  them 
well,  till  she  had  been  up  and  hit  the  stake  and  come  down 
to  the  middle  wicket,  when  her  luck  failed. 

Then  came  my  turn,  and  I  came  through  the  first  two 
wickets,  struck  her  ball  and  used  it  for  the  next  two  wick 
ets,  till  I  came  near  my  partner,  when  with  a  prosperous 
split-shot  I  sent  her  off  to  distant  regions,  struck  my  part- 


362  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

ner's  ball,  put  it  through  its  wicket,  and  came  and  sta 
tioned  myself  within  its  reach  for  future  use. 

Then  came  Mr.  Sydney  with  a  vigorous  succession  of 
hits,  and  knocked  us  apart;  sent  one  to  one  side  of  the 
ground,  and  one  to  the  other,  and  went  gallantly  up  to  his 
partner.  By  this  time  our  blood  was  thoroughly  up,  and 
the  game  became,  as  Eva  prophesied,  "war  to  the  knife." 
Mohawk  Indians  could  not  have  been  more  merciless  in 
purposes  of  utter  mischief  to  each  other  than  we,  and  for 
a  while  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  was  done  but  to  attack 
each  other's  balls,  and  send  them  as  far  as  possible  to  the 
uttermost  part  of  the  grounds.  As  each  had  about  equal 
skill  in  making  long  shots  the  reunion,  however,  was  con 
stantly  effected,  and  thus  each  in  turn  was  beaten  back 
from  the  wickets,  till  it  seemed  for  a  while  that  the  game 
would  make  no  progress. 

At  last,  however,  one  slip  of  our  antagonists  threw  the 
power  into  our  hands,  and  Miss  Sophie  used  it  to  take  herself 
and  me  up  through  three  wickets  to  the  stake,  and  thence 
down  again  till  the  intricate  middle  wicket  stopped  our  course. 

A  burst  of  cheering  greeted  her  success,  and  the  dark 
little  lady  seemed  to  glow  like  a  coal  of  fire.  I  was  n't  sure 
that  sparks  did  not  snap  from  her  eyes  as  she  ended  her 
performance  with  a  croquet  that  sent  Eva's  ball  spinning 
to  the  most  inaccessible  distance. 

A  well-pointed  shot  from  Wat  Sydney  again  turned  the 
tide  of  battle,  and  routed  the  victors,  while  he  went  to  the 
rescue  of  the  banished  princess,  and  took  her  back  to  posi 
tion. 

Every  turn  of  the  tide  and  every  good  shot  were  hailed 
with  cheers,  and  the  excitement  became  intense.  There 
were  points  in  the  battle  as  hard  to  carry  as  the  Malakoff, 
and  we  did  nothing  but  fight,  without  advancing  a  step. 
It  seemed  for  a  while  that  none  of  us  would  ever  so  far  get 
the  advantage  of  another  as  to  pass  that  downward  middle 


THE   MATCH   GAME  363 

wicket.  Every  successive  step  was  won  by  battles.  The 
ladies  were  so  excited  that  they  seemed  two  flames  of  fire. 
Every  nerve  in  them  was  alive,  and  we  men  felt  ourselves 
only  clumsy  instruments  of  their  enkindled  ardor.  We 
were  ordered  about,  commanded,  rebuked,  encouraged,  and 
cheered  on  to  the  fray  with  a  pungency  and  vigor  of  deci 
sion  that  made  us  quite  secondary  characters  in  the  scene. 
At  last  a  fortunate  stroke  gave  Miss  Sophie  the  command 
of  the  game,  and  she  dashed  through  the  middle  wicket, 
sent  Eva's  ball  to  farthest  regions  up,  and  Mr.  Sydney's 
down  to  the  stake,  took  mine  with  her  in  her  victorious 
race  through  wicket  after  wicket,  quite  through  to  the 
stake,  and  then  leaving  me  for  a  moment  she  croqueted 
Sydney's  ball  against  the  stake,  and  put  it  out.  A  general 
cheer  and  shouts  of  "  Victory  "  arose. 

"We  've  got  it!  We  're  quite  sure  to  go  out  the  next 
move !  "  she  said,  in  triumph,  as  she  left  her  ball  by  my 
side.  "She  never  can  hit  at  that  distance." 

"I  can  try,  though,"  said  Eva,  walking  across  the 
ground,  and  taking  her  place  by  her  ball,  pale  and  resolved, 
with  a  concentrated  calmness.  She  sighted  the  balls  delib 
erately,  poised  her  mallet,  took  aim,  and  gave  a  well-con 
sidered  stroke.  Like  a  straight-aimed  arrow  the  ball  flew 
across  the  green,  through  the  final  wicket,  and  struck 
Sophie's  ball! 

A  general  cheering  arose,  and  the  victorious  markswoman 
walked  deliberately  down  to  finish  her  work.  One  stroke 
put  Sophie  out  of  the  combat,  the  next  struck  upon  me, 
and  then  from  me  up  to  the  head  of  the  last  two  wickets 
that  yet  remained  to  be  made.  She  came  through  these 
with  one  straight  stroke,  and  hit  me  again. 

"Now  for  it,"  she  said,  setting  her  red-booted  foot  firmly 
on  the  ball,  and  with  one  virulent  tap,  away  flew  my  ball 
to  the  other  end  of  the  ground,  while  almost  immediately 
hers  hit  the  stake  and  the  victory  was  won. 


364  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

A  general  shout,  and  three  cheers,  and  all  the  spectators 
started  from  their  seats  like  a  troop  of  gay  tropical  birds, 
and  came  nocking  around  the  victors. 

I  knelt  down,  and  laid  my  mallet  at  her  feet.  "Beauti 
ful  princess!"  said  I,  "behold  your  enemies,  conquered, 
await  your  sentence." 

"Arise,  Sir  Knight,"  she  said,  laughing;  "I  sentence 
you  to  write  a  ballad  describing  this  battle.  Come,  So 
phie,"  she  added,  turning  gayly  to  the  brunette,  "let's 
shake  hands  on  it.  You  shall  have  your  revenge  of  me  at 
Newport  this  summer,"  and  the  two  rival  fair  ones  shook 
hands  in  all  apparent  amity. 

Wat  Sydney  now  advancing  presented  the  prize  with  a 
gallant  bow,  and  Eva  accepted  it  graciously,  and  fastened 
the  blue  scarf  that  floated  over  her  shoulder  with  it,  and 
then  the  whole  party  adjourned  to  another  portion  of  the 
lawn,  which  had  been  arranged  for  dancing ;  the  music 
struck  up,  and  soon  we  were  all  joining  in  the  dance  with 
a  general  hilarity. 

And  so  ended  the  day  at  Clairmont,  and  we  came  home 
under  a  broad  full  moon,  to  the  sound  of  music  on  the 
waters. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

LETTER  FROM  EVA  VAX  ARSDEL 

MY  DEAREST  BELLE,  —  Since  I  last  wrote  you  wondrous 
things  have  taken  place,  and  of  course  I  must  keep  you 
au  courant. 

In  the  first  place  Mr.  Sydney  came  back  to  our  horizon 
like  a  comet  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  The  first  harbinger  of 
his  return  was  not  himself  in  propvici,  but  cards  for  a  cro 
quet  fete  up  at  Clairmont  got  up  with  the  last  degree  of 
elegance. 

Mr.  Sydney,  it  appears,  understands  the  effect  of  a 
gilded  frame  to  set  off  a  picture,  and  so  resolved  to  mani 
fest  himself  to  us  in  all  his  surroundings  at  Clairmont. 

The  party  was  to  be  very  select  and  recherche,  and  of 
course  everybody  was  just  wild  to  go,  and  the  Elmores  in 
particular  were  on  the  qui  viue  to  know  if  we  had  invita 
tions  before  them.  Sophie  Elmore  called  down  for  nothing 
but  to  see.  We  had  all  the  satisfaction  there  was  to  be 
got  in  showing  her  our  cards  and  letting  her  know  that 
they  had  come  two  days  sooner  than  theirs.  Aunt  Maria 
contrived  to  give  them  to  understand  that  Mr.  Sydney  gave 
the  entertainment  mostly  on  my  account,  which  I  think 
was  assuming  quite  too  much  in  the  case.  I  am  positively 
tired  of  these  mean  little  rivalries  and  these  races  that  are 
run  between  families. 

It  is  thought  that  Sophie  Elmore  is  quite  fascinated  by 
Mr.  Sydney.  Sophie  is  a  nice,  spirited  girl,  with  a  good, 
generous  heart  as  I  believe,  and  it 's  a  thousand  pities  she 
should  n't  have  him  if  she  cares  for  him. 


366  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

But,  to  my  story.  You  may  imagine  the  fuss  at  Tulle- 
gig's.  Of  course,  we  belong  to  the  class  who  live  in  the 
enjoyment  of  "nothing  to  wear,"  and  the  first  result  of  a 
projected  entertainment  is  to  throw  us  all  on  our  knees 
before  Tullegig,  who  queens  it  over  us  accordingly. 

I  was  just  dying  to  find  out  if  a  certain  person  was  to 
be  there.  Of  late  our  intercourse  has  been  so  very  stately 
and  diplomatic  that  it  really  becomes  exciting.  He  has 
avoided  every  appearance  of  intimacy,  every  approach  to 
our  old  confidential  standing,  and  yet  apparently  for  the 
life  of  him  cannot  keep  from  taking  views  of  me  at  safe 
distance;  so,  as  I  said,  it  was  something  to  see  if  he  would 
be  there. 

As  to  Clairmont,  I  think  in  the  course  of  my  life  I  have 
seen  fine  grounds,  fine  houses,  fine  furniture,  and  fine  fetes 
before.  Nevertheless,  I  must  do  Sydney  the  justice  to  say 
that  he  gave  a  most  charming  and  beautiful  entertainment, 
where  everything  was  just  as  lovely  as  could  be.  We  went 
up  on  a  splendid  boat  to  the  sound  of  music.  We  had  a 
magnificent  lunch  under  the  trees,  and  there  were  arrange 
ments  for  four  games  to  go  on  at  once,  which  made  a  gay 
and  animated  tableau.  All  the  girls  wore  the  prettiest  cos 
tumes  you  can  imagine,  each  one  seeming  prettier  than  the 
other;  and  when  they  were  all  moving  about  in  the  game 
it  made  a  bright,  cheerful  effect.  Mr.  Henderson  was 
there  and  distinguished  himself  to  such  "a  degree  that  he 
was  appointed  one  of  the  four  who  were  to  play  a  match 
game,  in  conclusion,  for  a  prize.  Curiously  enough  he 
played  writh  Sophie  against  Sydney  and  myself.  How  we 
did  fight!  Sophie  is  one  of  those  girls  that  feel  everything 
to  the  tips  of  their  fingers,  and  I  am  another,  and  if  we 
did  n't  make  those  men  bestir  themselves !  I  fancy  they 
found  women  rulers  were  of  a  kind  to  keep  men  pretty 
busy. 

I  can  imagine  the  excitement  we  women  would  make  of 


LETTER  FROM  EVA  VAN  ARSDEL         367 

an  election  if  we  should  ever  get  into  politics.  Would  we 
not  croquet  our  adversaries'  balls,  and  make  stunning  split- 
shots  in  parties,  and  wire  ourselves  artfully  behind  wickets, 
and  do  all  sorts  of  perplexing  things?  I  confess  if  the 
excitement  should  get  to  be  half  as  great  as  in  playing 
croquet,  I  should  tremble  to  think  of  it. 

Well,  it  was  some  excitement  at'  all  events  to  play  against 
each  other,  he  and  I.  Did  n't  I  seek  out  his  ball,  did  n't 
I  pursue  it,  beat  it  back  from  wickets,  come  on  it  with 
most  surprising  and  unexpected  shots'?  Sophie  fought 
with  desperation  on  the  other  side,  and  at  last  they  seemed 
to  have  carried  the  day,  there  was  but  one  stroke  wanting 
to  put  them  out;  they  had  killed  Sydney  at  the  stake  and 
banished  me  to  the  farthest  extremity  of  the  ground. 
Mamma  always  said  I  had  the  genius  for  emergencies,  and 
if  you  '11  believe  me  I  struck  quite  across  the  ground  and 
hit  Sophie's  ball  and  sent  it  out,  and  then  I  took  his  back 
to  make  my  two  last  wickets  with,  and  finally  with  an  im 
posing  coup  de  theatre  I  croqueted  him  to  the  other  end 
of  the  ground,  and  went  out  amid  thunders  of  applause. 
He  took  it  with  great  presence  of  mind,  knelt  down  and 
laid  the  mallet  handsomely  at  my  feet,  and  professed  to 
deliver  himself  captive,  and  I  imposed  it  on  him  as  a  task 
to  write  a  ballad  descriptive  of  the  encounter.  So  he  was 
shut  up  for  about  half  an  hour  in  the  library,  and  came  out 
with  a  very  fine  and  funny  ballad  in  Chevy  Chace  measure 
describing  our  exploits,  which  was  read  under  the  trees, 
and  cheered  and  encored  in  the  liveliest  manner  possible. 

On  the  whole,  Mr.  Henderson  may  be  said  to  have  had 
quite  a  society  success  yesterday,  as  I  heard  him  very  much 
admired,  and  the  Elmores  overwhelmed  him  with  pressing 
invitations  to  call,  to  come  to  their  soirees,  etc.,  etc.  You 
see,  these  Elmores  have  everything  money  can  buy,  and  so 
they  are  distracted  to  be  literary,  or  at  least  to  have  literary 
people  in  their  train,  and  they  have  always  been  wanting 


368  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

to  get  Henderson  and  Jim  Fellows  to  their  receptions.  So 
I  heard  Mrs.  Elmore  overwhelming  him  with  compliments 
on  his  poem  in  a  way  that  quite  amused  me,  for  I  knew 
enough  of  him  to  know  exactly  how  all  this  seemed  to  him. 
He  is  of  all  persons  one  of  the  most  difficult  to  natter,  and 
has  the  keenest  sense  of  the  ridiculous;  and  Mrs.  Elmore's 
style  is  as  if  one  should  empty  a  bushel  basket  of  peaches 
or  grapes  on  your  head  instead  of  passing  the  fruit  dish. 

But  I  am  so  busy  traducing  my  neighbors  that  I  forgot 
to  say  I  won  the  croquet  prize,  which  was  duly  presented. 
It  was  a  gold  croquet  mallet  set  as  a  pin  with  four  balls  of 
emerald,  amethyst,  ruby,  and  topaz  depending  from  it.  It 
had  quite  an  Etruscan  effect  and  was  very  pretty,  but  when 
I  saw  how  much  Sophie  really  took  the  defeat  to  heart  my 
soul  was  moved  for  her,  and  I  made  a  peace-offering  by 
getting  her  to  accept  it.  It  was  not  easy  at  first,  but  I 
made  a  point  of  it  and  insisted  upon  it  with  all  my  logic, 
telling  her  that  in  point  of  skill  she  had  really  won  the 
game,  that  my  last  stroke  was  only  a  lucky  accident,  and 
you  know  I  can  generally  talk  people  into  almost  anything 
I  set  my  heart  on,  and  so  as  Sophie  was  nattered  by  my 
estimate  of  her  skill,  and  as  the  bauble  is  a  pretty  one  I 
prevailed  on  her  to  take  it.  I  am  tired  and  sick  of  this 
fuss  between  the  Elmores  and  us,  and  don't  mean  to  have 
more  of  it,  for  Sophie  really  is  a  nice  girl,  and  not  a  bit 
more  spoiled  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us,  notwithstanding 
all  the  nonsense  of  her  family,  and  she  and  I  have  agreed 
to  be  fast  friends  for  the  future  whatever  may  come. 

I  had  one  other  motive  in  this  move.  I  never  have 
accepted  jewelry  from  Sydney,  and  I  was  quite  willing  to 
be  rid  of  this.  If  I  could  only  croquet  his  heart  down  to 
Sophie  to  use,  it  might  be  a  nice  thing.  I  fancy  she  would 
like  it. 

I  managed  my  cards  quite  adroitly  all  day  to  avoid  a 
tete-a-tete  interview  with  Sydney.  I  was  careful  always 


LETTER  FROM   EVA  VAN   ARSDEL  369 

to  be  in  the  centre  of  a  group  of  two  or  three,  and  when 
he  asked  me  to  walk  through  the  conservatories  with  him 
I  said,  "Come,  Susan  and  Jane,"  and  took  them  along. 

As  to  somebody  else,  he  made  no  attempt  of  the  kind, 
though  I  could  see  that  he  saw  me  wherever  I  went.  Do 
these  creatures  suppose  we  don't  see  their  eyes,  and  fancy 
that  they  conceal  their  feelings?  I  am  perfectly  certain 
that  whatever  the  matter  is,  he  thinks  as  much  of  me  as 
ever  he  did. 

Well,  it  was  moonlight  and  music  all  the  way  home, 
the  band  playing  the  most  heart-breaking,  entrancing  har 
monies  from  Beethoven  and  melodies  from  Schubert,  and 
then  Wat  Sydney  annoyed  me  beyond  measure  by  keeping 
up  a  distracting  chit-chat  when  I  wanted  to  be  quiet  and 
listen.  He  cares  nothing  for  music,  and  people  who  don't 
are  like  flies,  they  have  no  mercy  and  never  will  leave 
you  a  quiet  moment.  The  other  one  went  off  by  himself, 
gazed  at  the  moon  and  heard  the  music  all  in  the  most 
proper  and  romantic  style,  and  looked  like  a  handsome 
tenor  at  an  opera. 

So  far,  my  dear,  the  history  of  our  affairs.  But  some 
thing  more  surprising  than  ever  you  heard  has  just  hap 
pened,  and  I  must  hasten  to  jot  it  down. 

Yesterday  afternoon,  being  worried  and  wearied  with  the 
day  before,  I  left  your  letter,  as  you  see,  and  teased  Ida 
to  go  out  driving  with  me  in  the  Park.  She  had  promised 
Effie  St.  Clere  to  sketch  some  patterns  of  arbors  and  gar 
den  seats  that  are  there,  for  her  new  place  at  Fern  Valley, 
and  I  had  resolved  on  a  lonely  ramble  to  clear  my  heart 
and  brain.  Moreover,  the  last  time  I  was  there  I  saw 
from  one  of  the  bridges  a  very  pretty  cascade  falling  into 
a  charming  little  wooded  lake  in  the  distance.  I  resolved 
to  go  in  search  of  this  same  cascade  which  is  deep  in  a 
shady  labyrinth  of  paths 


370  MY   WIFE   AND  I 

Well,  it  was  a  most  lovely  perfect  day,  and  we  left  our 
carriage  at  the  terrace  and  started  off  for  our  ramble,  Ida 
with  her  sketch-book  in  hand.  She  was  very  soon  hard 
at  work  at  a  rustic  summer-house,  while  I  plunged  into  a 
woody  tangle  of  paths  guided  only  by  the  distant  sound  of 
the  cascades.  It  was  toward  evening  and  the  paths  seemed 
quite  solitary,  for  I  met  not  a  creature.  I  might  really 
have  thought  I  was  among  the  ferns  and  white  birches  up 
in  Conway,  or  anywhere  in  the  mountains,  it  was  so  per 
fectly  mossy  and  wild  and  solitary.  A  flock  of  wild  geese 
seemed  to  be  making  an  odd  sort  of  outlandish  noise,  far 
in  a  deep,  dark  tangle  of  bushes,  and  it  appeared  to  me  to 
produce  the  impression  of  utter  solitude  more  than  any 
thing  else.  Evidently  it  was  a  sort  of  wild  lair  seldom 
invaded.  I  still  heard  the  noise  of  the  cascade  through  a 
thicket  of  leaves,  but  could  not  get  a  sight  of  it.  Some 
times  it  seemed  near  and  sometimes  far  off,  but  at  last  I 
thought  I  hit  upon  a  winding  path  that  seemed  to  promise 
to  take  me  to  it.  It  wound  round  a  declivity,  and  I  could 
tell  by  the  sound  I  was  approaching  the  water.  I  was 
quite  animated,  and  ran  forward  till  a  sudden  turn  brought 
me  to  the  head  of  the  cascade  where  there  was  a  railing 
and  one  seat,  and  as  I  came  running  down  I  saw  suddenly 
a  man  with  a  book  in  his  hand  sitting  on  this  seat,  and  it 
was  Mr.  Henderson. 

He  rose  up  when  he  saw  me  and  looked  pale,  but  an 
expression  of  perfectly  rapturous  delight  passed  over  his 
face  as  I  checked  myself  astonished. 

"Miss  Van  Arsdel!"  he  said.  "To  what  happy  fate 
do  I  owe  this  good  fortune  ?  " 

I  recovered  myself  and  said  that  "I  was  not  aware  of 
any  particular  good  fortune  in  the  case." 

""Not  to  you,  perhaps,"  he  said,  "but  to  me.  I  have 
seen  nothing  of  you  for  so  long, "  he  added  rather  piteously. 

"There  has  been  nothing  that  I  am  aware  of  to  prevent 


LETTER   FROM   EVA   VAN   ARSDEL  371 

your  seeing  me,"  I  said.  "If  Mr.  Henderson  chooses  to 
make  himself  strange  to  his  friends  it  is  his  own  affair." 
He  looked  confused  and  murmured  something  about  "  many 
engagements  and  business." 

"Mr.  Henderson,  you  will  excuse  me,"  said  I,  resolved 
not  to  have  this  sort  of  thing  go  on  any  longer.  "You 
have  always  been  treated  at  our  house  as  an  intimate  and 
valued  friend;  of  late  you  seem  to  prefer  to  act  like  a  cere 
monious  stranger." 

"Indeed,  you  mistake  me  entirely,  Miss  Van  Arsdel," 
he  said  eagerly.  "You  must  know  my  feelings;  you 
must  appreciate  my  reasons;  you  see  why  I  cannot  and 
ought  not." 

"I  am  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  both,"  I  said.  "I  cannot 
see  any  reason  why  we  should  not  be  on  the  old  footing, 
I  am  sure.  You  have  acted  of  late  as  if  you  were  afraid 
to  meet  me;  it  is  all  perfectly  unaccountable  to  me.  Why 
should  you  do  so  ?  What  reason  can  there  be  1 " 

"Because,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  desperation,  "because 
I  love  you,  Miss  Van  Arsdel.  Because  I  always  shall  love 
you  too  well  to  associate  with  you  as  the  wife  or  betrothed 
bride  of  another  man." 

"There  is  no  occasion  you  should,  Mr.  Henderson.  I 
am  not,  so  far  as  I  understand,  either  wife  or  betrothed  to 
any  man,"  I  said. 

He  looked  perfectly  thunderstruck. 

"Yet  I  heard  it  from  the  best  authority." 

"From  what  authority? "  said  I,  "for  I  deny  it." 

"Your  mother." 

"  My  mother  ?  "  I  was  thunderstruck  in  my  turn ;  here 
it  was,  to  be  sure.  Poor  mamma!  I  saw  through  the 
whole  mystery. 

"Your  mother  told  me,"  he  went  on,  "that  there  was  a 
tacit  engagement  which  was  to  be  declared  on  Mr.  Sydney's 
return,  and  cautioned  me  against  an  undue  intimacy." 


372  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"My  mother,"  I  said,  "has  done  her  utmost  to  per 
suade  me  to  this  engagement.  I  refused  Mr.  Sydney  out 
and  out  in  the  beginning.  She  persuaded  me  to  allow  him 
to  continue  his  attentions  in  hope  of  changing  my  mind, 
but  it  never  has  changed. " 

He  grew  agitated  and  spoke  very  quickly. 

"  Oh,  tell  me,  Miss  Van  Arsdel,  if  /  may  hope  for  suc 
cess  in  making  the  same  effort  ?  " 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  might,"  said  I. 

There  followed  a  sort  of  electric  flash  and  a  confusion  of 
wild  words  after  this  —  really,  my  dear,  I  cannot  remember 
half  what  he  said  —  only  the  next  I  knew,  somehow,  we 
were  walking  arm  in  arm  together. 

What  a  talk  we  had,  and  what  a  walk  up  and  down 
those  tangled  alleys !  going  over  everything  and  explaining 
everything.  It  was  a  bright  long  twilight,  and  the  great 
silver  moon  rose  upon  us  while  yet  we  were  talking.  After 
a  while  I  heard  Ida  calling  up  and  down  the  paths  for  me. 
She  came  up  and  met  us  with  her  sketch-book  under  her 
arm. 

"Ida,  we're  engaged,  Harry  and  I,"  I  said. 

"So  I  thought,"  she  said,  looking  at  us  kindly  and 
stretching  out  both  hands. 

I  took  one  and  he  the  other. 

"Do  you  think  I  have  any  chance  with  your  parents?" 
asked  Harry. 

"I  think,"  said  Ida,  "that  you  will  find  trouble  at  first, 
but  you  may  rely  on  Eva,  she  will  never  change;  but  we 
must  go  home." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "it  would  not  do  to  introduce  the  matter 
by  getting  up  a  domestic  alarm  and  sending  a  party  to  drag 
the  lake  for  us ;  we  must  drive  home  in  a  peaceable,  orderly 
manner,"  and  so,  it  being  agreed  among  us  that  I  should 
try  my  diplomatic  powers  on  mamma  first,  and  Harry 
should  speak  to  papa  afterward,  we  drove  home. 


LETTER  FROM  EVA  VAN  ARSDEL        373 

Well,  now,  Belle,  it  is  all  over  —  the  mystery,  I  mean ; 
and  the  struggle  with  the  powers,  that  bids  to  begin.  How 
odd  it  is  that  marriage,  which  is  a  thing  of  all  others  most 
personal  and  individual,  is  a  thing  where  all  your  friends 
want  you  to  act  to  please  them ! 

Mamma  probably  in  her  day  felt  toward  papa  just  as  I 
feel,  but  1  am  sure  she  will  be  drowned  in  despair  that  I 
cannot  see  Wat  Sydney  with  her  eyes,  and  that  I  do  choose 
to  see  Harry  with  mine.  But  it  isn't  mamma  that  is  to 
live  with  him,  it  is  I ;  it  is  my  fearful  venture  for  life, 
not  hers.  I  am  to  give  the  right  to  have  and  to  hold 
me  till  life's  end.  When  I  think  of  that  I  wonder  I  am 
not  afraid  to  risk  it  with  any  man,  but  with  him  I  am  not. 
I  know  him  so  intimately  and  trust  him  so  entirely. 

What  a  laugh  I  gave  him  last  night,  telling  him  how 
foolishly  he  had  acted;  he  likes  to  have  me  take  him  off, 
and  seemed  perfectly  astonished  that  I  had  had  the  per 
spicacity  to  read  his  feelings.  These  men,  my  dear,  have 
a  kind  of  innocent  stupidity  in  matters  of  this  kind  that  is 
refreshing ! 

Well,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  there  was  one  blissful  in 
dividual  sent  home  in  New  York  last  night,  notwithstand 
ing  the  terrors  of  the  "stern  parents"  that  are  yet  to  be 
encountered. 

How  I  do  chatter  on !  Well,  my  dear  Belle,  you  see  I 
have  kept  my  word.  I  always  told  you  that  I  would  let 
you  know  when  I  was  engaged,  the  very  first  of  any  one, 
and  now  here  it  is.  You  may  make  the  most  of  it  and 
tell  whom  you  please,  for  I  shall  never  change.  I  am  as 
firm  as  Ben  Lomond. 

Ever  your  loving  EVA. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

DOMESTIC    CONSULTATIONS 

ON  the  afternoon  after  the  croquet  party  Aunt  Maria 
Wouvermans  and  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  withdrawn  to  the  most 
confidential  recess  of  the  house,  held  mysterious  council. 

"Well,  Nelly,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "how  did  you  think 
things  looked  yesterday  ?  " 

"  I  thought  a  crisis  was  impending,  but  after  all  nothing 
came.  But  you  see,  Maria,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  "that 
girl!  she  is  the  most  peculiar  creature.  She  wouldn't  give 
him  the  least  chance;  she  just  held  herself  away  from  him. 
Two  or  three  times  I  tried  to  arrange  that  they  should  be 
alone  together,  but  she  wouldn't.  She  would  keep  Susan 
and  Jane  Seaton  at  her  elbow  as  if  they  had  been  glued  to 
her." 

"It  was  so  provoking,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "because  all 
the  Elmores  were  there  watching  and  whispering.  Those 
Elmores  are  in  such  an  elated  state  on  account  of  the  wed 
ding  in  their  family.  You  'd  really  think  it  was  a  royal 
marriage  at  the  very  least;  and  they  whisper  about  and 
talk  as  if  we  had  been  trying  to  catch  Sydney  and  could  n't; 
that 's  what  provokes  me !  They  were  all  on  tiptoe  watching 
every  turn,  and  I  did  long  to  be  able  to  come  down  on 
them  with  an  announcement !  What  ails  Eva  ?  Of  course 
she  must  mean  to  have  him ;  no  girl  at  her  age  would  be 
fool  enough  to  refuse  such  an  offer;  you  see  she's  three- 
and- twenty." 

"Well,  if  you  '11  believe  me,  Eva  actually  went  and  gave 
that  croquet  pin  Sydney  gave  her  to  Sophie  Elniore!  I 


DOMESTIC   CONSULTATIONS  375 

overheard  her  urging  it  on  her,  and  he  overheard  it  too, 
and  I  know  he  didn't  like  it;  it  was  so  very  marked  a 
thing,  you  see !  " 

"Eva  gave  that  pin  to  Sophie  Elmore!  The  girl  is 
crazy.  She  is  too  provoking  for  anything!  I  can't  think 
what  it  is,  Nelly,  makes  your  girls  so  singular." 

Mrs.  Wouvennans,  it  will  appear,  was  one  of  that  very 
common  class  of  good  people  who  improve  every  opportu 
nity  to  show  how  very  senseless  their  neighbors  are  com 
pared  with  themselves.  The  sole  and  only  reason,  as 
might  be  gathered  from  her  remarks,  why  anything  dis 
agreeable  happened  to  anybody  was  because  they  did  not 
do,  or  had  not  done,  just  as  she  should  have  done  in  their 
circumstances. 

Now  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  though  conceding  in  general  that 
sister  Maria  was  stronger  and  brighter  than  herself,  was 
somewhat  rebellious  under  the  process  of  having  it  insisted 
in  detail  that  every  unfortunate  turn  of  affairs  was  her 
fault,  and  so  she  answered  with  some  spirit :  — 

"I  don't  see  that  my  girls  are  any  more  singular  than 
other  people's.  Very  few  mothers  have  brought  up  nicer 
girls  than  mine.  Everybody  says  so." 

"And  I  say,  Nelly,  they  are  peculiar,"  insisted  Mrs. 
Wouvennans.  "There  's  Ida  going  off  at  her  tangent!  and 
Miss  Eva!  Well!  one  thing,  it  isn't  my  fault.  I've 
done  the  very  best  I  could  in  instructing  them !  It  must 
come  from  the  Van  Arsdel  side  of  the  house.  I  'm  sure  in 
our  family  girls  never  made  so  much  trouble.  We  all  grew 
up  sensible,  and  took  the  very  best  offer  we  had,  and  were 
married  and  went  about  our  duties  without  any  fuss. 
Though,  of  course,  we  never  had  a  chance  like  this." 

"Now,  I  shouldn't  wonder  in  the  least,"  said  Mrs.  Van 
Arsdel,  "if  Sydney  should  fly  off  to  Sophie  Elmore.  It's 
evident  that  she  is  perfectly  infatuated  with  him !  and  you 
know  men's  hearts  are  caught  on  the  rebound  very  often." 


376  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "I  shouldn't  wonder,  just 
as  Jerrold  Macy  flew  off  to  Blanche  Sinclair,  when  Edith 
Enderly  coquetted  so  with  him.  He  never  would  have 
gone  to  Blanche  in  the  world  if  Edith  had  not  thrown  him 
off.  Edith  was  sorry  enough  afterward  when  it  was  too 
late  to  help  it." 

"I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  "one  never  knows 
what  trouble  is  till  one  has  girls  at  the  marrying  age !  " 

"It's  all  your  own  fault,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "you  in 
dulge  them  too  much.  For  my  part,"  she  continued,  "I 
like  the  French  way  of  arranging  these  things.  It  ought 
not  to  be  left  to  the  choice  of  a  young  silly  girl.  The 
parents  ought  to  arrange  for  her,  and  then  the  thing  is  set 
tled  without  any  trouble.  Of  course  people  of  experience 
in  mature  life  can  choose  better  for  a  girl  than  she  can 
choose  for  herself!  Our  girls  in  America  have  too  much 
liberty.  If  I  had  daughters  to  bring  up  I  should  bring 
them  up  so  that  they  would  never  think  of  disputing  what 
I  told- them." 

"So  you  are  always  saying,  Maria,"  said  Mrs.  Van 
Arsdel;  "it 's  quite  safe  to  say  what  you  '11  do  when  you 
have  n't  any,  but  it 's  very  provoking  to  me.  I  only  wish 
you  had  Ida  and  Eva  to  manage." 

"I  only  wish  I  had!"  said  Aunt  Maria.  "I  should 
have  had  them  both  well  married  by  this  time.  There 
shouldn't  be  any  of  this  kind  of  nonsense  that  you  allow. 
I'd  set  down  my  foot.  I  would  n't  have  it.  My  daugh 
ters  should  obey  me.  You  let  them  make  a  perfect  nose- 
of-wax  of  you.  They  treat  you  in  any  way  they  please." 

"You  always  think  so  much  of  yourself,  Maria,  and 
whatever  happens  you  turn  round  and  blame  me.  I  wish 
to  mercy  you  'd  had  children, and  then  you  'd  see!  People 
who  have  n't  are  always  delighted  with  themselves  and 
always  criticising  people  who  have.  If  you  had  a  family 
of  children  to  manage  they  'd  soon  bring  you  down." 


DOMESTIC   CONSULTATIONS  377 

"Well,  Nelly,  you '11  just  see,  you'll  have  a  lot  of  old 
maids  on  your  hands,  that 's  all,"  said  Aunt  Maria.  "Ida 
is  a  gone  case  now,  and  Eva  is  on  the  certain  road.  Girls 
that  are  so  difficult  and  romantic  and  can't  tell  their  own 
mind  are  sure  to  make  old  maids  at  last.  There  was  Ellen 
Gilliflower,  and  Jane  Seabright,  they  might  both  have  had 
houses  and  horses  and  carriages  of  their  own  if  they  had 
taken  offers  when  they  could  get  them." 

"You  know  poor  Jane  lost  her  lover." 

"To  be  sure.  Well,  he  was  dead,  wasn't  he?  and  she 
could  n't  marry  him,  but  was  that  any  reason  why  she 
never  should  marry  anybody  1  There  was  John  Smithson 
would  have  put  her  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  best  establish 
ments  about  New  York,  and  she  might  have  had  her  own 
coupe  and  horses  just  as  Mrs.  Smithson  does  now.  It 's 
all  this  ridiculous  idea  about  loving.  Why,  girls  can  love 
anybody  they  've  a  mind  to,  and  if  I  had  a  daughter  she 
should." 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,  Maria,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel. 
"I  think  it  is  a  pretty  serious  thing  to  force  a  daughter's 
affections. " 

"Fiddlestick  upon  affections,  Nelly;  don't  you  begin  to 
talk.  It  makes  me  perfectly  sick  to  hear  the  twaddle 
about  it.  People  in  good  circumstances  always  like  each 
other  well  enough,  and  any  girl  can  get  along  with  any 
man  that  puts  her  in  a  good  position  and  takes  good  care 
of  her.  If  Ida  had  been  made  to  marry  a  good  man  when 
she  first  came  out  of  school  she  never  would  have  gone  off 
at  all  these  tangents,  and  she  'd  have  been  a  contented 
woman,  and  so  would  Eva.  She  ought  to  be  made  to 
marry  Wat  Sydney;  it  is  a  tempting  of  Providence  to  let 
the  thing  drag  on  so.  Now,  if  Sydney  was  like  Sim  Eiv- 
ington,  I  wouldn't  say  a  word.  I  think  Polly's  conduct 
is  perfectly  abominable,  and  if  Sim  goes  on  getting  drunk 
and  raises  a  hell  upon  earth  at  home,  Polly  may  just  have 


378  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

herself  to  thank  for  it,  for  she  was  told  all  about  him. 
She  did  it  with  her  eyes  open,  but  Eva's  case  is  different." 

At  this  moment  the  door-bell  rang,  and  the  waiter 
brought  in  a  letter  on  a  silver  salver.  Both  ladies  pounced 
upon  it,  and  Aunt  Maria,  saying,  "It's  to  you,  from  Syd 
ney,"  eagerly  broke  it  open  and  began  reading. 

"I  should  think,  sister,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  in  an 
injured  tone,  "I  might  be  allowed  the  first  reading  of  my 
own  letters." 

"Oh,  pshaw,  don't  be  so  peevish,"  said  Aunt  Maria, 
pushing  it  petulantly  toward  her.  "If  you  don't  want  me 
to  take  any  interest  in  your  affairs  I  'm  sure  I  don't  see 
why  I  should.  I  '11  go,  and  you  may  manage  them  your 
self." 

"But,  Maria,"  said  poor  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  apologeti 
cally,  "one  naturally  has  the  wish  to  see  one's  own  letters 
first." 

"Well,  mercy  on  us,  child,  don't  be  in  a  passion  about 
it,"  said  Aunt  Maria;  "you've  got  your  letter,  haven't 
you?  Do  read  it,  and  you'll  see  it's  just  as  I  thought. 
That  girl  has  offended  him  with  her  airs  and  graces,  and 
he  is  just  on  the  point  of  giving  her  up." 

"But,  you  see,  he  says  that  he  still  desires  to  propose 
to  her,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  reading,  "only  that  as  her 
manner  to  him  is  so  marked  he  does  not  wish  to  expose 
himself  to  another  refusal." 

"Well,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "now  you  see,  Nelly,  after 
all,  that  letter  leaves  the  game  in  Eva's  own  hands.  If 
now  she  will  behave  herself  and  let  you  invite  him  to  an 
interview  and  treat  him  properly,  it  can  all  be  settled. 
The  letter,  in  fact,  amounts  to  a  proposal  in  form.  Now, 
Nelly,  that  girl  must  be  made  to  behave  herself.  I  wish 
I  could  put  some  pluck  into  you;  you  must  be  decided 
with  her. " 

"It's  of  no  use,   sister,  you  don't  know  Eva.      She's 


DOMESTIC   CONSULTATIONS  371) 

an  easy  child  to  be  coaxed,  but  she  has  a  terrible  will  of 
her  own.  The  only  way  to  manage  her  is  through  her 
affections.  I  can't  bear  to  cross  her,  for  she  always  was 
a  good  child." 

"Well,  then,  tell  her  just  how  critical  the  state  of  the 
family  is.  She  may  have  it  in  her  power  to  save  her  father 
from  failure.  It  may  be  just  life  or  death  with  us  all. 
Put  it  to  her  strongly.  It  would  be  a  pretty  thing,  in 
deed,  if  instead  of  being  mistress  of  Clairmont  and  that 
place  at  Newport,  we  should  all  be  driven  to  take  second- 
rate  houses  and  live  like  nobodies,  just  for  her  foolish 
fancies.  You  ought  to  frighten  her,  Nelly.  Set  it  out 
strongly.  Appeal  to  her  affections." 

"Well,  I  shall  do  my  best,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel. 

"Where  is  she?  let  me  talk  with  her,"  said  Aunt  Maria. 

"She  and  Ida  are  both  gone  driving  in  the  Park  this 
afternoon,  but  after  all,  sister,  I  think  /  had  best  manage 
it.  I  think  I  understand  Eva  better  than  you  do.  She 
would  do  more  for  me  than  for  anybody,  I  think,  for  the 
child  is  very  affectionate." 

"There  can't  be  anybody  else  in  the  case,  can  there?" 
said  Aunt  Maria.  "I  began  to  think  it  rather  imprudent 
to  have  that  Henderson  round  so  much,  but  of  late  he 
seems  to  have  stopped  coming." 

"I  flatter  myself  I  managed  him,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Ars 
del,  with  complacency.  "  I  gave  him  a  little  motherly  admo 
nition  that  had  a  wonderful  effect.  After  all,  it  was  a  duty 
I  owed  to  him,  poor  youth !  Eva  is  wonderfully  fascinat 
ing,  and  I  could  see  he  was  getting  too  much  interested  in 
her.  I  have  a  regard  for  him.  He  is  a  nice  fellow." 

"I  intended  to  have  him  take  Ida,"  said  Aunt  Maria. 
"That  would  have  been  the  proper  thing  to  do." 

"Well,  Maria,  I  should  think  you  might  have  found  out 
by  this  time  that  everybody  in  the  world  isn't  going  to 
walk  in  the  ways  you  mark  out  for  them." 


380  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"It  would  be  better  for  them  if  they  would,"  said  Aunt 
Maria.  "If  I  had  had  the  bringing  up  of  your  children 
from  the  beginning,  Nelly,  and  you  had  never  interfered, 
I  think  you  would  have  seen  results  that  you  never  will 
see  now.  It  seems  mysterious  that  Providence  shouldn't 
send  children  to  those  best  fitted  to  bring  them  up.  Well, 
you  must  do  the  best  you  can.  What  time  is  it  ?  Dear 
me,  it  is  almost  dinner-time  and  I  have  a  new  table  girl 
to-day.  I  expect  she  '11  have  everything  topsyturvy.  I  '11 
call  round  to-morrow  to  see  how  things  come  on." 


CHAPTEK   XXXV 

WEALTH  VERSUS  LOVE 

EVA  VAN  ARSDEL  was  seated  in  her  apartment  in  all 
that  tremulous  flush  of  happiness  and  hope,  that  confusion 
of  feeling,  which  a  young  girl  experiences  when  she  thinks 
that  the  great  crisis  of  her  life  has  been  passed,  and  her 
destiny  happily  decided. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  like  him,  I  like  him; 
and  I  am  going  to  like  him,  no  matter  what  mamma,  or 
Aunt  Maria,  or  all  the  world  say.  I  '11  stand  by  him 
through  life  and  death." 

At  this  moment  her  mother  came  into  the  room. 
"Dear  me!     Eva,    child,  not  gone  to  bed  yet!     Why, 
what 's  the  matter?  how  flushed  your  cheeks  are!     Why, 
you  look  really  feverish." 

"Do  I?"  said  Eva,  hardly  knowing  what  she  was  say 
ing.  "Well,  I  suppose  that  is  becoming,  at  any  rate." 

"Aren't  you  well?"  said  her  mother.  "Does  your 
head  ache  1 " 

"Well?  certainly,  nicely;  never  better,  mamma  dear," 
said  Eva  caressingly,  coming  and  seating  herself  on  her 
mother's  knee,  and  putting  her  arm  around  her  neck  — 
"never  better,  mother." 

"Well,  Eva,  then  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  just  wanted  a  few 
minutes  alone  with  you  to-night.  I  have  got  something 
to  tell  you"  — and  she  drew  a  letter  from  her  pocket. 
"Here  's  this  letter  from  Mr.  Sydney;  I  want  to  read  you 
something  from  it." 

"Oh  dear,  mamma!  what's  the  use?  Don't  you  think 
it  rather  stupid,  reading  letters  ?  " 


382  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

"My  dear  child,  Mr.  Sydney  is  such  a  good  man,  and 
so  devoted  to  you." 

"I  haven't  the  least  objection,  mamma,  to  his  being  a 
good  man.  Long  may  he  be  so.  But  as  to  his  being  de 
voted  to  me,  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

"At  least,  Eva,  just  read  this  letter  —  there's  a  dear; 
and  I  am  sure  you  must  see  how  like  a  gentleman  he 
writes. " 

Eva  took  the  letter  from  her  mother's  hand  and  ran  it 
over  hurriedly. 

"All  no  use,  mamma,  dear,"  she  said,  when  she  had 
done.  "It  won't  hurt  him.  He  '11  get  over  this  just  as 
people  do  with  the  chicken-pox.  The  fact  is,  mamma, 
Mr.  Sydney  is  a  man  that  can't  bear  to  be  balked  in  any 
thing  that  he  has  once  undertaken  to  do.  It  is  not  that  he 
loves  me  so  very  dreadfully,  but  he  has  set  out  to  have 
me.  If  he  could  have  got  me,  ten  to  one  he  would  have 
tired  of  me  before  now.  You  know  he  said  that  he  never 
cared  anything  about  a  girl  that  he  knew  he  could  have. 
It  is  simply  and  only  because  I  have  kept  myself  out  of 
his  way  and  been  hard  to  get  that  he  wants  me.  If  he 
once  had  me  for  a  wife,  I  should  be  all  well  enough,  but 
I  should  be  got,  and  he  'd  be  off  after  the  next  thing  he 
could  not  get.  That 's  just  his  nature,  mamma." 

"But,  Eva  dear,  such  a  fine  man  as  he  is." 

"I  do  not  see  that  he  is  so  very  fine." 

"  But,  Eva,  only  look  at  the  young  men  that  girls  marry ! 
Why,  there's  that  young  Eivington;  he's  drunk  three 
nights  in  a  week,  so  they  tell  me.  And  there  are  worse 
stories  than  that  about  him.  He  has  been  bad  in  every 
kind  of  way  that  a  man  could  be  bad.  And  yet,  Polly 
Elmore  is  perfectly  crazy  with  delight  to  have  her  daughter 
get  him.  And  here  's  Wat  Sydney,  who,  everybody  says, 
is  always  perfectly  sober  and  correct." 

"Well,  mamma  dear,  if  it  is  only  a  sober,  correct  man 


> 


WEALTH  VERSUS  LOVE  383 

that  you  want  me  to  have,  there  's  that  Mr.  Henderson, 
just  as  sober  and  correct,  and  a  great  deal  more  cultivated 
and  agreeable." 

"How  absurd  of  you,  my  daughter!  Mr.  Henderson 
has  not  anything  to  support  a  wife  on.  He  is  a  good 
moral  young  man,  I  admit,  and  agreeable,  and  has  talent 
and  all  that;  but,  my  dear  Eva,  you  are  not  fitted  to  con 
tend  with  poverty.  You  must  marry  a  man  that  can  sup 
port  you  in  the  position  that  you  have  always  been  in." 

"  Whether  I  love  him  or  not,  mamma  1  " 

"My  dear  Eva,  you  would,  of  course,  love  your  hus 
band.  A  man  that  is  able  to  take  care  of  you  and  get  you 
everything  that  you  want  —  give  you  every  wish  of  your 
heart  —  you  would  love  of  course. " 

"Well,  mamma,  I  have  got  a  man  that  does  exactly  that 
for  me,  now,"  said  Eva,  "and  I  don't  need  another. 
That 's  just  what  papa  does  for  me.  And  now,  when  I 
marry,  I  want  a  companion  that  suits  me.  I  have  got  now 
all  the  bracelets,  and  jewelry,  and  finger-rings  that  I  can 
think  of;  and  if  I  wanted  forty  more  I  could  tease  them 
out  of  papa  any  day,  or  kiss  them  out  of  him.  Pa  always 
gets  me  everything  I  want;  so  I  don't  see  what  I  want  of 
Mr.  Sydney." 

"Well,  now,  my  dear  Eva,  I  must  speak  to  you  seri 
ously.  You  are  old  enough  now  not  to  be  talked  to  like 
a  child.  The  fact  is,  my  darling,  there  is  nothing  so  inse 
cure  as  our  life  here.  Your  father,  my  love,  is  reported 
to  be  a  great  deal  richer  than  he  is.  Of  course  we  have  to 
keep  up  the  idea,  because  it  helps  his  business.  But  the 
last  two  or  three  years  he  has  met  with  terrible  losses,  and 
I  have  seen  him  sometimes  so  nervous  about  our  family 
expenditures  that,  really,  there  was  no  comfort  in  life. 
But,  then,  we  had  this  match  in  view.  We  supposed,  of 
course,  that  it  was  coming  off.  And  such  a  splendid  set 
tlement  on  you  would  help  the  family  every  way.  Mr. 


384  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Sydney  is  a  very  generous  man;  and  the  use  of  his  capital, 
the  credit  that  the  marriage  would  give  to  your  father  in 
business  circles,  would  be  immense.  And  then,  my  child, 
just  think  of  the  establishment  you  would  have!  Why, 
there  is  not  such  an  establishment  in  the  country  as  his 
place  on  the  North  Eiver !  You  saw  it  yesterday.  What 
could  you  ask  more  ?  And  there  is  that  villa  at  Newport. 
You  might  be  there  in  the  summer,  and  have  all  your  sis 
ters  there.  And  he  is  a  man  of  the  most  splendid  taste  as 
to  equipages  and  furniture,  and  everything  of  that  sort. 
And,  as  I  said  before,  he  is  a  good  man." 

"But,  mamma,  mamma,  it  will  never  do.  Not  if  he 
had  the  East  and  West  Indies.  All  that  can't  buy  your 
little  Eva.  Tell  me,  now,  mamma,  dear,  wras  pa  a  rich 
man  when  you  married  him  —  I  mean  when  you  fell  in 
love  with  him  1  " 

"Well,  no,  dear,  not  very;  though  people  always  said 
that  he  was  a  man  that  would  rise." 

"But  you  didn't  begin  in  a  house  like  this,  mamma. 
You  began  at  the  beginning  and  helped  him  up,  didn't 
you  ? " 

"Well,  yes,  dear,  we  did  begin  in  a  quiet  way;  and  I 
had  to  live  pretty  carefully  the  first  years  of  my  life;  and 
worked  hard,  and  know  all  about  it;  and  I  want  to  save 
you  from  going  through  the  same  that  I  did." 

"Maybe  if  you  did  I  should  not  turn  out  as  you  are 
now.  But  really,  mother,  if  pa  is  embarrassed,  why  do 
we  live  so?  Why  don't  we  economize?  I  am  sure  I  am 
willing  to." 

"Oh,  darling!  we  mustn't.  We  mustn't  make  any 
change ;  because,  if  the  idea  should  once  get  running  that 
there  is  any  difficulty  about  money,  everybody  would  be 
down  on  your  father.  We  have  to  keep  everything  going, 
and  everything  up,  or  else  things  would  go  abroad  that 
would  injure  his  credit;  and  he  could  not  get  money  for 


WEALTH  VERSUS  LOVE  385 

his  operations.  He  is  engaged  in  great  operations  now 
that  will  bring  in  millions  if  they  succeed." 

"And  if  they  don't  succeed,"  said  Eva,  "then  I  suppose 
that  we  shall  lose  millions  —  is  that  it  1  " 

"Well,  dear,  it  is  just  as  I  tell  you,  we  rich  people  live 
on  a  very  uncertain  eminence,  and  for  that  reason  I  wanted 
to  see  my  darling  daughter  settled  securely." 

"Well,  mamma,  now  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  been 
thinking  of.  Since  '  riches  make  to  themselves  wings  and 
fly  away, '  what  is  the  sense  of  marrying  a  man  whose  main 
recommendation  is  that  he  is  rich?  Because  that  is  the 
thing  that  makes  Mr.  Sydney  more,  for  instance,  than  Mr. 
Henderson,  or  any  other  nice  gentleman  we  know.  Now 
what  if  I  should  marry  Mr.  Sydney,  who,  to  say  the  truth, 
dear  mamma,  I  do  not  fancy,  and  who  is  rather  tiresome 
to  me  —  and  then  some  fine  morning  his  banks  should  fail, 
his  railroads  burst  up,  and  his  place  on  the  .North  River 
and  his  villa  at  Newport  have  to  be  sold,  and  he  and  I 
have  to  take  a  little  unfashionable  house  together,  and 
rough  it  —  what  then  1  Why,  then,  when  it  came  to  that, 
I  should  wish  that  I  had  chosen  a  more  entertaining  com 
panion.  For  there  is  n't  a  thing  that  I  am  interested  in 
that  I  can  talk  with  him  about.  You  see,  dear  mother, 
we  have  to  take  it  '  for  better  or  for  worse ; '  and  as  there 
is  always  danger  that  the  wheel  may  turn,  by  and  by  it 
may  come  so  that  we  '11  have  nothing  but  the  man  himself 
left.  It  seems  to  me  that  we  should  choose  our  man  with 
great  care.  He  should  be  like  the  pearl  of  great  price,  the 
Bible  speaks  of,  for  whom  we  would  be  glad  to  sell  every 
thing.  It  should  be  somebody  we  could  be  happy  with  if 
we  lost  all  beside.  And  when  I  marry,  mother,  it  will  be 
with  a  man  that  I  feel  is  all  that  to  me." 

"Well,  Eva  dear,  where  '11  you  find  such  a  man?  " 

"What  if  I  had  found  him,  mother  —  or  thought  I 
had?" 


386  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"  What  do  you  mean,  child  ?  " 

"Mother,  I  have  found  the  man  that  I  love,  and  he 
loves  me,  and  we  are  engaged." 

"Eva,  child!  I  would  not  have  thought  this  of  you. 
Why  have  n't  you  told  me  before  ?  " 

"Because,  mamma,  it  was  only  this  afternoon  that  I 
found  out  that  he  loved  me  and  wanted  me  to  be  his  wife. " 

"And  may  I  presume  to  ask  now  who  it  is? "  said  Mrs. 
Van  Arsdel  in  a  tone  of  pique. 

"Dear  mother,  it  is  Harry  Henderson." 

"Mr.  Henderson!  Well,  I  do  think  that  is  too  dishon 
orable;  when  I  told  him  your  relations  with  Mr.  Sydney." 

"Mother,  you  gave  him  to  understand  that  I  was  en 
gaged  to  Mr.  Sydney,  and  I  told  him  this  afternoon,  that 
I  was  not,  and  never  would  be.  He  was  honorable.  After 
you  had  that  conversation  with  him  he  avoided  our  house 
a  long  time,  and  avoided  me.  I  was  wretched  about  it, 
and  he  was  wretched ;  but  this  afternoon  we  met  acciden 
tally  in  the  Park;  and  I  insisted  on  knowing  from  him 
why  he  avoided  us  so.  And,  at  last,  I  found  out  all; 
and  he  found  out  all.  We  understand  each  other  perfectly 
now,  and  nothing  can  ever  come  between  us.  Mother,  I 
would  go  with  him  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  There  is 
nothing  that  I  do  not  feel  able  to  do  or  suffer  for  him. 
And  I  am  glad  and  proud  of  myself  to  know  that  I  can 
love  him  as  I  do." 

"Oh  well,  poor  child!  I  do  not  know  what  we  shall 
do,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  with  profound  dejection. 

"Deary  mother,  I  will  do  everything  I  can  to  help  you, 
and  everything  I  can  to  help  papa.  I  do  not  believe  there 
is  one  of  us  children  that  would  not.  And  I  think  it  is 
true,  what  Ida  is  always  telling  us,  that  it  would  be  a  great 
deal  better  for  us  if  we  had  less,  and  had  to  depend  on 
ourselves  and  use  our  own  faculties  more.  There  are  the 
boys  in  college;  there  is  no  need  of  their  having  spending 


WEALTH  VERSUS  LOVE  387 

money  as  they  do.  And  I  know  if  papa  would  tell  them 
of  his  difficulties  it  would  make  men  of  them,  just  as  it 
would  make  a  woman  of  me. " 

"Well,  I  do  not  know,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel.  "Your 
father  has  not  told  me  of  any  particular  embarrassments, 
only  I  see  he  is  anxious  and  nervous,  and  I  know  him  so 
well  that  I  always  know  when  his  affairs  trouble  him. 
And  this  is  a  great  blow  to  me,  Eva." 

"Well,  dear  mother,  I  am  very  sorry  it  is  so;  but  I 
cannot  help  it.  It  would  be  wicked  for  me,  mother,  to 
marry  any  other  man  when  I  love  Harry  as  I  do.  Love 
is  not  a  glove  that  you  can  take  off  as  you  please.  It  is 
something  very  different.  Now,  with  him,  I  never  felt 
tired.  I  always  like  to  be  with  him;  I  always  like  to 
talk  with  him;  he  never  makes  me  nervous;  I  never  wish 
he  was  gone;  he  can  always  understand  me,  and  I  can  un 
derstand  him.  We  can  almost  tell  what  the  other  is  think 
ing  of  without  speaking.  And  I  will  risk  our  not  being 
happy  together.  So  please  do,  dear  mother,  look  a  little 
cheerful  about  it.  Let  me  be  happy  in  my  own  way." 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  must,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Arsdel,  with 
a  deep  sigh,  taking  up  the  lamp.  "  You  always  did  have 
your  own  way,  Eva." 

"Oh,  well,  mother  dear,  some  day  you  '11  be  glad  of  it. 
Good-night." 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

FURTHER    CONSULTATIONS 

AFTER  the  departure  of  her  mother,  Eva  in  vain  tried 
to  compose  herself  to  sleep.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and 
her  brain  was  in  a  complete  whirl.  Her  mother  had  said 
and  hinted  just  enough  about  the  financial  condition  of  the 
family  to  fill  her  with  vague  alarms.  She  walked  uneasily 
up  and  down  her  luxurious  chamber,  all  whose  appointments 
spoke  of  wealth  and  taste;  and  it  was  with  an  unpleasant 
feeling  of  insecurity  that  she  regarded  the  pictures  and 
statues  and  sofas,  and  all  the  charming  arrangements,  in 
perfecting  which  her  father  had  always  allowed  her  carte 
blanche  as  to  money.  She  reflected  uneasily  that  in  mak 
ing  all  these  expensive  arrangements  she  had  ordered  sim 
ply  what  pleased  her  fancy,  without  inquiry  as  to  price, 
and  without  ever  glancing  over  a  bill  to  know  the  result; 
and  now,  she  found  herself  affianced  to  a  young  man  with 
out  any  other  resources  than  those  which  must  come  from 
the  exertion  of  his  talents,  seconded  by  prudence  and  econ 
omy.  And  here,  again,  offered  to  her  acceptance,  was  an 
other  marriage,  which  would  afford  her  the  means  of  grati 
fying  every  taste,  and  of  continuing  to  live  in  all  those 
habits  of  easy  luxury  and  careless  expenses  that  she  could 
not  but  feel  were  very  agreeable  to  her.  Not  for  one 
moment  did  she  feel  an  inclination,  or  a  temptation,  to 
purchase  that  luxury,  and  that  ease,  by  the  sale  of  herself; 
but  still,  when  she  thought  of  her  lover  —  of  the  difficul 
ties  that  he  must  necessarily  meet,  of  the  cares  which  she 
must  bring  upon  him  —  she  asked  herself,  "Was  it  not  an 


FURTHER   CONSULTATIONS  389 

act  of  injustice  to  him  to  burden  him  with  so  incapable  and 
helpless  a  wife  as  she  feared  she  should  prove  ? "  . 

"But  I  am  not  incapable,"  she  said  to  herself,  "and  I 
will  not  be  helpless.  I  have  strength  in  me,  and  I  will 
use  it;  I  will  show  that  I  am  good  for  something.  I  won 
der  if  it  is  true  that  papa  is  embarrassed.  If  he  is,  I  wish 
he  would  trust  us;  I  wish  he  would  tell  us  at  once,  and 
let  us  help  him  economize.  I  would  do  it;  I  am  sure  we 
all  would  do  it." 

It  was  in  vain,  under  the  pressure  of  these  thoughts,  to 
try  to  compose  herself  to  sleep;  and,  at  last,  she  passed 
into  her  sister  Ida's  room,  who,  with  her  usual  systematic 
regularity  as  to  hours,  had  for  a  long  time  been  in  the 
enjoyment  of  quiet  slumber. 

"  Ida,  dear !  "  she  said,  stooping  over  and  speaking  to 
her  sister,  "Ida,  look  here!" 

Ida  opened  her  eyes  and  sat  up  in  bed.  "Why,  Eva, 
child!  not  gone  to  bed  yet?  What  is  the  matter  with 
you  1  You  will  certainly  ruin  your  health  with  these  ir 
regular  hours." 

"Oh,  Ida,  I  am  so  nervous  I  can't  sleep!  I  am  sorry 
to  disturb  you;  but,  indeed,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about 
something  that  worries  me;  and  you  know  you  are  always 
gone  before  I  am  up  in  the  morning." 

"  Well,  dear,  what  is  it  1  "  said  Ida,  stroking  her  head. 

"Do  you  know,  mamma  has  just  been  into  my  room 
with  a  letter  from  Mr.  Sydney.  He  is  coming  into  the 
field  again,  and  has  written  to  mamma,  and  mamma  has 
been  in  talking  to  me  till  I  am  just  ready  to  cry.  Now, 
Ida,  you  know  all  that  took  place  between  Mr.  Henderson 
and  me  yesterday  in  the  Park ;  we  are  engaged,  are  we  not, 
as  much  as  two  people  can  be  ? " 

"Certainly  you  are,"  said  Ida  decisively. 

"Well  now,  mamma  is  so  distressed  and  disappointed." 

•*  You  told  her  about  it,  then  1 "  said  Ida. 


390  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

"Certainly;  yes,  I  told  her  all  about  it;  and  oh,  Ida! 
what  do  you  think?  mamma  really  made  me  feel  as  if 
something  dreadful  was  going  to  happen  in  the  family,  that 
papa  was  getting  embarrassed  in  his  business,  and  perhaps 
we  might  all  fail  and  come  to  ruin  if  I  did  not  help  him  by 
marrying  Mr.  Sydney.  Now,  do  you  think  it  would  be 
right  for  me  ?  It  certainly  cannot  be  my  duty !  " 

"Ask  yourself  that  question,"  said  Ida;  "think  what 
you  must  promise  and  vow  in  marriage." 

"To  be  sure!  and  how  wicked  it  would  be  to  promise 
and  vow  all  that  to  one  man  when  I  know  that  I  love  an 
other  one  better !  " 

"Then,"  said  Ida,  "asking  a  woman  to  take  false  mar 
riage  vows  to  save  her  family,  or  her  parents  from  trouble, 
is  just  like  asking  her  to  steal  money,  or  forge  a  false  note 
to  save  them.  Eva,  you  cannot  do  it." 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  "that  is  what  I  told  mamma.  But, 
Ida  dear,  is  it  really  true,  do  you  think,  that  papa  is  trou 
bled  in  his  business  ?  " 

"Papa  is  not  a  man  that  would  speak  freely  to  any 
woman  on  business  matters,"  said  Ida,  "not  even  to  me; 
but  I  know  that  his  liabilities  and  ventures  are  terrific ;  and 
nothing  would  surprise  me  less  than  to  have  this  whole 
air-castle  that  we  have  been  living  in  dissolve  like  a  morn 
ing  mist,  and  let  us  down  on  the  pavement.  All  I  have 
to  say  is,  that  if  it  comes  it  is  j  ust  what  I  have  been  pre 
paring  for  all  my  life.  I  have  absolutely  refused  to  be 
made  >such  a  helpless  doll  as  young  girls  in  our  position 
commonly  are.  I  have  determined  that  I  would  keep  my 
faculties  bright,  and  my  bodily  health  firm  and  strong;  and 
that  all  these  luxuries  should  not  become  a  necessity  to  me, 
so  but  what  I  could  take  care  of  myself,  and  take  care  of 
others,  without  them.  And  all  I  have  to  say  is,  if  a  crash 
comes  it  will  find  me  ready,  and  it  won't  crush  me." 

"But,   Ida,   don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  great  deal 


FURTHER   CONSULTATIONS  391 

better  if  we  would  all  begin  now  to  economize,  and  live 
very  differently  1  Why,  I  am  sure  I  would  be  willing  to 
move  out  of  this  house,  and  rent  it,  or  sell  it,  and  live  in 
a  smaller  one,  and  give  up  the  carriages  and  horses.  We 
could  live  a  great  deal  cheaper  and  more  quietly  than  we 
do,  and  yet  have  everything  that  I  care  about.  Yes,  I  'd 
even  rather  sell  the  pictures  —  all  except  a  few  —  and  feel 
safe  and  independent,  than  to  live  in  this  sort  of  glittering, 
uncertain  way,  and  be  pressed  to  marry  a  man  that  I  do 
not  love,  for  the  sake  of  getting  out  of  it.'7 

"Well,  dear,"  said  Ida,  "you  never  will  get  Aunt  Maria 
to  let  mamma  stop  running  this  race  with  the  Elmores  till 
the  last  gun  fires  and  the  ship  is  ready  to  sink;  that's 
the  whole  of  it.  It  is  what  people  will  say,  and  the 
thought  of  being  pitied  by  their  set,  and  being  beaten  in 
the  race,  that  will  go  further  than  anything  else.  If  you 
talk  about  any  drawing  in  of  expenses,  they  say  that  we 
must  not  do  anything  of  the  sort  —  that  it  will  injure 
papa's  credit.  Now  I  know  enough  of  what  things  cost, 
and  what  business  estimates  are,  to  know  that  we  are 
spending  at  a  tremendous  rate.  If  we  had  an  entailed 
estate  settled  upon  us  with  an  annual  income  of  two  or 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars,  there  might  be  some  sense 
in  living  as  we  do;  but  when  all  depends  on  the  value  of 
stocks  that  are  going  up  to-day  and  down  to-morrow,  there 
is  never  any  knowing  what  may  happen;  and  that  is  what 
I  have  always  felt.  Father  made  a  lucky  hit  by  investing 
in  stocks  that  doubled,  and  trebled,  and  quadrupled  in 
value;  but  now,  there  is  a  combination  against  them,  and 
they  are  falling.  I  know  it  gives  father  great  anxiety; 
and,  as  I  said  before,  I  should  not  wonder  in  the  least  — 
nothing  would  surprise  me  less,  than  that  we  should  have 
a  great  crisis  one  of  these  times." 

"Poor  Harry!"  said  Eva,  "it  was  the  thought  of  my 
being  an  heiress  that  made  him  hesitate  so  long;  perhaps 


392  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

he  '11  have  a  chance  to  take  me  without  that  obstacle.  Ida, 
do  you  think  it  would  be  right  and  just  in  me  to  let  him 
take  such  an  inefficient  body  as  I  am  ?  Am  I  quite  spoiled, 
do  you  think  —  past  all  redemption  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  darling!"  said  Ida;  "I  have  good  hopes  of 
you.  In  the  first  place,  a  woman  that  has  strength  of  mind 
enough  to  be  true  to  her  love  against  all  the  pressure  that 
has  been  brought  to  bear  on  you  has  strength  of  mind  to 
do  anything  that  may  be  required  of  her.  Of  course,  dear, 
it  will  come  to  the  practical  point  of  living  in  an  entirely 
different  style  from  what  we  now  live  in ;  and  you  must 
count  the  cost.  In  the  first  place,  you  must  give  up  fash 
ionable  society  altogether.  You  must  consent  to  be  pitied 
and  wondered  at  as  one  that  has  fallen  out  of  her  sphere 
and  gone  down  in  the  world.  All  the  Mrs.  Grundys  will 
stop  calling  on  you;  and  you  won't  have  any  turnout  in 
the  Park;  and  you  may  have  to  take  a  small  house  on  an 
unfashionable  street,  and  give  your  mind  to  the  business 
of  calculating  expenses  and  watching  outgoes  and  incomes. " 

"Well,  now,  seriously,  Ida,  I  shouldn't  mind  these 
things  a  bit.  I  don't  care  a  penny  for  Mrs.  Grundy,  nor 
her  works  and  ways.  As  to  the  little  house,  there  '11  be 
the  less  care  to  keep  it;  and  as  to  its  being  on  an  unfash 
ionable  street,  what  do  I  care  for  that?  Nobody  that  I 
really  care  for  would  fail  to  come  and  see  me,  let  me  live 
Avhere  I  would.  And  Harry  and  I  just  agree  in  our  views 
of  life.  We  are  not  going  to  live  for  the  world,  but  for 
ourselves  and  our  friends.  We  '11  have  the  nicest  little 
home,  where  every  true  friend  of  ours  shall  feel  as  much  at 
home  as  we  do.  And  don't  you  think,  Ida,  that  I  should 
make  a  good  manager?  Oh!  I  know  that  I  could  make 
a  house  pretty  —  charming  —  on  ever  so  little  money,  just 
as  I  get  up  a  spring  hat,  sometimes,  out  of  odds  and  ends; 
and  I  quite  like  the  idea  of  having  it  to  do.  Of  course, 
poor  papa,  I  don't  want  him  to  fail;  and  I  hope  he  won't; 


FURTHER  CONSULTATIONS  393 

but  I  'm  something  like  you,  Ida,  if  all  should  go  to  ruin, 
I  feel  as  if  I  could  stand  up,  now  that  I  have  got  Harry 
to  stand  up  with  me.  We  can  begin  quietly  at  first,  and 
make  our  fortune  together.  I  have  thought  of  ever  so 
many  things  that  I  could  do  for  him  to  help  him.  Do 
you  know,  Ida  (I  rather  guess  you  '11  laugh),  that  I  brought 
home  his  gloves  and  mended  them  this  very  evening?  I 
told  him  I  was  going  to  begin  to  take  care  of  him.  You  see, 
I  '11  make  it  cheaper  for  him  in  a  thousand  ways  —  I  know 
I  can.  He  never  shall  find  me  a  burden.  I  am  quite 
impatient  to  be  able  to  show  what  I  can  do." 

"To  begin,  darling,"  said  Ida,  "one  thing  you  must  do 
is  to  take  care  of  your  body;  no  late  hours  to  waste  your 
little  brain.  And  so  don't  you  think  you  had  better  go  to 
your  room  and  go  quietly  to  sleep  ? " 

"  Oh  Ida !  I  am  going  to  be  so  good  and  so  regular  after 
to-night;  but  to-night,  you  know,  is  a  kind  of  exception. 
Girls  don't  get  engaged  every  day  of  their  lives,  and  so 
you  must  forgive  me  if  I  do  make  a  run  upon  you  to-night. 
The  fact  is,  what  with  my  talk  with  Harry  this  afternoon, 
and  with  mamma  to-night,  and  all  the  fuss  that  I  see  im 
pending,  my  eyes  are  just  as  wide  open  as  they  can  be; 
and  I  don't  believe  I  could  go  to  sleep  if  I  were  to  try. 
Oh  Ida!  Harry  told  me  all  about  his  mother,  and  all 
about  that  handsome  cousin  of  his,  that  he  has  spoken  of 
so  many  times.  Do  you  know  I  used  to  have  such  worries 
of  mind  about  that  cousin?  I  was  perfectly  sure  that  she 
stood  in  my  way.  And  now,  Ida,  I  have  a  most  capital 
idea  about  her!  She  wants  to  go  to  France  to  study,  just 
as  you  do;  and  how  nice  it  would  be  if  you  could  join 
company  and  go  together." 

"It  would  be  pleasant,"  said  Ida.  "I  must  confess  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  being  'damsel  errant,'  wandering  off 
entirely  alone  in  the  world;  and  if  I  leave  you,  darling,  I 
shall  want  somebody  to  speak  to.  But  come,  my  dear  lit- 


394  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

tie  Pussy,  you  must  lie  down  and  shut  your  eyes,  and  say 
your  prayers,  and  try  to  go  to  sleep." 

"You  darling  good  little  doctor,  you,"  said  Eva,  "it  is 
too  bad  of  me  to  keep  you  up !  There,  I  will  be  good  — 
see  how  good  I  am !  Good- night "  —  and  kissing  her  sister, 
she  sought  her  own  apartment. 


CHAPTEE   XXXVII 

MAKING    LOVE    TO    ONE'S    FATHER-IN-LAW 

LIFE  has  many  descents  from  romance  to  reality  that 
are  far  from  agreeable.  But  every  exalted  hour,  and  every 
charming  passage  in  our  mortal  pilgrimage,  is  a  luxury  that 
has  to  he  paid  for  with  something  disagreeable.  The  Ger 
man  story-teller,  Tieck,  has  a  pretty  legend  of  a  magical 
region  where  were  marvelous  golden  castles,  and  fountains, 
and  flowers,  and  bright-winged  elves,  living  a  life  of  cease 
less  pleasure;  but  all  this  was  visible  only  to  the  anointed 
eyes  of  some  favored  mortal  to  whom  was  granted  the 
vision.  To  all  others  this  elfin  country  was  a  desolate 
wilderness.  I  had  had  given  me  within  a  day  or  two  that 
vision  of  Wonderland,  and  wandered  —  scarce  knowing 
whether  in  the  body  or  out  —  in  its  enchanted  bowers. 
The  first  exhilarating  joy  of  the  moment  when  every  mist 
rose  up  from  the  landscape  of  love,  when  there  was  perfect 
understanding,  perfect  union,  perfect  rest,  was  something 
that  transfigured  life.  But  having  wandered  in  this  blessed 
country  and  spoken  the  tongue  of  angels,  I  was  now  to 
return  to  every-day  regions  and  try  to  translate  its  marvels 
and  mysteries  into  the  vernacular  of  mortals.  In  short,  I 
was  to  wait  upon  Mr.  Van  Arsdel  and  ask  of  him  the  hand 
of  his  daughter.  Now  however  charming,  with  suitable 
encouragement,  to  make  love  to  a  beautiful  lady,  making 
love  to  a  prospective  father-in-law  is  quite  another  matter. 

Men  are  not  as  a  general  thing  inclined  to  look  sympa 
thetically  on  other  men  in  love  with  any  fine  woman  of 
their  acquaintance,  and  are  rather  provoked  than  otherwise 


396  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

to  have  them  accepted.  "What  any  woman  can  see  in 
that  fellow !  "  is  a  sort  of  standing  problem.  But  posses 
sors  of  daughters  are,  a  fortiori,  enemies  ready-made  to 
every  pretender  to  their  hands.  My  own  instincts  made 
me  aware  of  this,  and  I  could  easily  fancy  that  had  I  a 
daughter  like  Eva  I  should  be  ready  to  shoot  the  fellow 
who  came  to  take  her  from  me. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  it  is  true,  had  showed  me,  hitherto,  in 
his  quiet  way,  marked  favor.  He  was  seldom  much  of  a 
talker,  though  a  shrewd  observer  of  all  that  was  said  by 
others.  He  had  listened  silently  to  all  our  discussions  and 
conversations  in  Ida's  library,  and  oftentimes  to  the  read 
ing  of  the  articles  I  had  subjected  to  the  judgment  of  the 
ladies;  sometimes,  though  very  rarely,  interposing  little 
bits  of  common-sense  criticism  which  showed  keen  good 
sense  and  knowledge  of  the  world. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  like  many  of  our  merchant  princes, 
had  come  from  a  rural  district,  and  an  early  experience  of 
the  hard  and  frugal  life  of  a  farm.  Good  sense,  acute  ob 
servation,  an  ability  to  take  wide  and  clear  views  of  men 
and  things,  and  an  incorruptible  integrity,  had  been  the 
means  of  his  rise  to  his  present  elevation.  He  was  a  true 
American  man  in  another  respect,  and  that  was  his  devo 
tion  to  women.  In  America,  where  we  have  a  clear  demo 
cracy,  women  hold  that  influence  over  men  that  is  exerted 
by  the  aristocracy  in  other  countries.  They  are  something 
to  be  looked  up  to,  petted,  and  courted.  The  human 
mind  seems  to  require  something  of  this  kind.  The  faith 
and  fealty  that  the  middle- class  Englishman  has  toward  his 
nobility  is  not  all  snobbery.  It  has  something  of  poetry 
in  it  —  it  is  his  romance  of  life.  Up  in  those  airy  regions 
where  walk  the  nobility,  he  is  at  liberty  to  fancy  some 
higher,  finer  types  of  manhood  and  womanhood  than  he 
sees  in  the  ordinary  ways  of  life,  and  he  adores  the  unseen 
and  unknown.  The  American  life  would  become  vulgai 


MAKING  LOVE   TO   ONE'S   FATHER-IN-LAW        397 

and  commonplace  did  not  a  chivalrous  devotion  to  women 
come  in  to  supply  the  place  of  recognized  orders  of  nobil 
ity.  The  true  democrat  sees  no  superior  in  rank  among 
men,  but  all  women  are  by  courtesy  his  superiors. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel  had  married  a  beauty  and  a  belle. 
When  she  chose  him  from  among  a  crowd  of  suitors  he 
could  scarcely  believe  his  own  eyes  or  ears,  or  help  marveling 
at  the  wondrous  grace  of  the  choice ;  and,  as  he  told  her  so, 
Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  believed  him,  and  their  subsequent  life 
was  arranged  on  that  understanding.  The  Van  Arsdel  house 
was  an  empire  where  women  ruled,  though  as  the  queen  was 
a  pretty,  motherly  woman,  her  reign  was  easy  and  flowery. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel  delighted  in  the  combinations  of  busi 
ness  for  its  own  sake.  It  was  his  form  of  mental  activity. 
He  liked  the  effort,  the  strife,  the  care,  the  labor,  the  suc 
cess  of  winning ;  but  when  money  was  once  won  he  cared 
not  a  copper  for  all  those  forms  of  luxury  and  show,  for 
the  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  fashion,  which  were 
all  in  all  to  his  wife.  In  his  secret  heart  he  considered 
the  greater  part  of  the  proceedings  in  and  about  his  splen 
did  establishment  as  a  rather  expensive  species  of  humbug; 
but  then  it  was  what  the  women  wanted  and  desired,  and 
he  took  it  all  quietly  and  without  comment.  I  felt  some 
what  nervous  when  I  asked  a  private  interview  with  him 
in  Ida's  library. 

"I  have  told  mamma,  Harry,"  whispered  Eva,  "and 
she  is  beginning  to  get  over  it." 

Mrs.  Van  Arsdel  received  me  with  an  air  of  patient  en 
durance,  as  if  I  had  been  the  toothache  or  any  of  the  other 
inevitable  inflictions  of  life;  Miss  Alice  was  distant  and 
reserved,  and  only  Ida  was  cordial. 

I  found  Mr.  Van  Arsdel  dry,  cold,  and  wary,  not  in  the 
least  encouraging  any  sentimental  effusion,  and  therefore  I 
proceeded  to  speak  to  him  with  as  matter-of-fact  directness 
as  if  the  treaty  related  to  a  bag  of  wool. 


398  MY   WIFE   AND  I 

"Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  I  love  your  daughter.  She  has  hon 
ored  me  so  far  as  to  accept  of  my  love,  and  I  have  her  per 
mission  to  ask  your  consent  to  our  marriage." 

He  took  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them  deliberately  while 
I  was  speaking,  and  coughed  dryly. 

"Mr.  Henderson,7'  he  said,  "I  have  always  had  a  great 
respect  for  you  so  far  as  I  knew  you,  but  I  must  confess 
I  don't  know  why  I  should  want  to  give  you  my  daughter." 

"Simply,  sir,  because  in  the  order  of  nature  you  must 
give  her  to  somebody,  and  I  have  the  honor  to  be  chosen 
by  her." 

"Eva  could  do  better,  her  mother  thinks." 

"I  am  aware  that  Miss  Van  Arsdel  could  marry  a  man 
with  more  money  than  I  have,  but  none  who  would  love 
her  more  or  be  more  devoted  to  her  happiness.  Besides 
I  have  the  honor  to  be  the  man  of  her  choice,  and  perhaps 
you  may  be  aware  that  Miss  Eva  is  a  young  lady  of  very 
decided  preferences." 

He  smiled  dryly,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  funny  twinkle 
in  his  eye. 

"Eva  has  always  been  used  to  having  her  own  way,"  he 
remarked. 

"Then,  my  dear  sir,  I  must  beg  leave  to  say  that  the 
choice  of  a  companion  for  life  is  a  place  where  a  lady  has 
a  good  right  to  insist  on  her  own  way. " 

"Well,  Mr.  Henderson,  you  may  be  right.  But  per 
haps  her  parents  ought  to  insist  that  she  shall  not  make 
an  imprudent  marriage." 

"Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  I  do  not  conceive  that  I  am  proposing 
an  imprudent  marriage.  I  have  not  wealth  to  offer,  it  is 
true,  but  I  have  a  reasonable  prospect  of  being  able  to  sup 
port  a  wife  and  family.  I  have  good  firm  health,  I  have 
good  business  habits,  I  have  a  profession  which  already 
assures  me  a  certain  income,  and  an  influential  position  in 
society. " 


MAKING  LOVE   TO   ONE'S   FATHER-IN-LAW         399 

"  What  do  you  call  your  profession  ?  " 

"Literature,"  I  replied. 

He  looked  skeptical,  and  I  added,  "Yes,  Mr.  Van  Ars- 
del,  in  our  day  literature  is  a  profession  in  which  one  may 
hope  for  both  fame  and  money." 

"It  is  rather  an  uncertain  one,  isn't  it?"  said  he. 

"I  think  not.  A  business  which  proposes  to  supply  a 
great,  permanent,  constantly  increasing  demand  you  must 
admit  to  be  a  good  one.  The  demand  for  current  reading 
is  just  as  wide  and  steady  as  any  demand  of  our  life,  and 
the  men  who  undertake  to  supply  it  have  as  certain  a  busi 
ness  as  those  that  undertake  to  supply  cotton  cloth  or  rail 
road  iron.  At  this  day  fortunes  are  being  made  in  and  by 
literature. " 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel  drummed  on  the  table  abstractedly. 

"Now,"  said  I,  determined  to  speak  in  the  language  of 
men  and  things,  "the  case  is  just  this:  If  a  young  man  of 
good,  reliable  habits,  good  health,  and  good  principles  has 
a  capital  of  seventy  thousand  dollars  invested  in  a  fair 
paying  business,  has  he  not  a  prospect  of  supporting  a 
family  in  comfort? " 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  regarding  me  curiously, 
"I  should  call  that  a  good  beginning." 

"Well,"  rejoined  I,  "my  health,  my  education,  my 
power  of  doing  literary  work  are  this  capital.  They  secure 
to  me  for  the  next  year  an  income  equal  to  that  of  seventy 
thousand  dollars  at  ten  per  cent.  Now,  I  think  a  capital 
of  that  amount  invested  in  a  man  is  quite  as  safe  as  the 
same  sum  invested  in  any  stocks  whatever.  It  seems  to 
me  that  in  our  country  a  man  who  knows  how  to  take  care 
of  his  health  is  less  likely  to  become  unproductive  in  in 
come  than  any  stock  you  can  name." 

"There  is  something  in  that,  I  admit,"  replied  Mr.  Van 
Arsdel. 

"And  there's  something  in  this,  too,  papa,"  said  Eva, 


400  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

who  entered  at  this  moment  and  could  not  resist  her  desire 
to  dip  her  oar  in  the  current  of  conversation,  "and  that  is, 
that  an  investment  that  you  have  got  to  take  for  better  or 
worse,  and  can't  sell  or  get  rid  of  all  your  life,  had  better 
be  made  in  something  you  are  sure  you  will  like." 

"  And  are  you  sure  of  that  in  this  case,  Pussy  1  "  said 
her  father,  pinching  her  cheek. 

"Tolerably,  as  men  go.  Mr.  Henderson  is  the  least 
tiresome  man  of  my  acquaintance,  and  you  know,  papa, 
it 's  time  I  took  somebody;  you  don't  want  me  to  go  into 
a  convent,  do  you  1  " 

"How  about  poor  Mr.  Sydney?  " 

"Poor  Mr.  Sydney  has  just  called,  and  I  have  invited 
him  to  a  private  audience  and  convinced  him  that  I  am 
not  in  the  least  the  person  to  make  him  happy;  and  he  is 
one  of  the  sort  that  feel  that  it  is  of  the  last  importance 
that  he  should  be  made  happy." 

"Well,  well!  Mr.  Henderson,  I  presume  you  have 
seen,  in  the  course  of  your  observations,  that  this  is  one  of 
the  houses  where  the  women  rule.  You  and  Eva  will  have 
to  settle  it  with  her  mother." 

"Then  I  am  to  understand,"  exclaimed  I,  "that,  as  far 
as  you  are  concerned  "  — 

"I  submit,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel. 

"The  ayes  have  it,  then,"  said  Eva. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  young  lady,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Arsdel,  "if  I  may  judge  by  the  way  your  mother  lamented 
to  me  last  night." 

"Oh,  that 's  all  Aunt  Maria!  You  see,  papa,  this  is  an 
age  of  revolution,  and  there  's  going  to  be  a  revolution  in 
the  Aunt  Maria  dynasty  in  our  house.  She  has  governed 
mamma  and  all  the  rest  of  us  long  enough,  and  now  she 
must  go  down  and  I  must  rule.  Harry  and  I  are  going  to 
start  a  new  era  and  have  things  all  our  own  way.  I  'm 
going  to  crown  him  King,  and  he  then  will  crown  me 


MAKING  LOVE   TO   ONE'S  FATHER-IN-LAW         401 

Queen,  and  then  we  shall  proceed  to  rule  and  reign  in  our 
own  dominions,  and  Aunt  Maria,  and  Mrs.  Grundy,  and 
all  the  rest  of  them  may  help  themselves;  they  can't  hin 
der  us.  We  shall  be  happy  in  our  own  way,  without  con 
sulting  them." 

"Well,  well!"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  following  with  an 
amused  eye  a  pirouette  Eva  executed  at  the  conclusion  of 
her  speech,  "you  young  folks  are  venturesome." 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  am  '  The  woman  who  dared, '  "  said  Eva. 

"  '  Nothing  venture,  nothing  have, '  "  quoted  I. 

"Eva  knows  no  more  about  managing  money  than  a  this 
year's  robin,"  said  her  father. 

"Yet  this  year's  robins  know  how  to  build  respectable 
nests  when  their  time  conies,"  said  she.  "They  don't 
bother  about  investments  and  stocks  and  all  those  things, 
but  sing  and  have  a  good  time.  It  all  comes  right  for 
them,  and  I  don't  doubt  it  will  for  us." 

"  You  have  a  decided  talent  for  spending  money  most 
agreeably,  I  confess,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel. 

"Xow,  papa,  it's  too  bad  for  you  to  be  running  down 
your  own  daughter!  I'm  not  appreciated.  I  have  a 
world  of  undeveloped  genius  for  management.  Harry  has 
agreed  to  teach  me  accounts,  and  as  I  belong  to  the  class 
who  always  grow  wiser  than  their  teachers,  I  'm  sure  that 
before  six  months  are  over  I  shall  be  able  to  suggest  im 
proved  methods  to  him.  When  I  get  a  house  you  '11  all 
be  glad  to  come  and  see  me,  I  shall  make  it  so  bright  and 
sunny  and  funny,  and  give  you  such  lovely  things  to  eat; 
and  in  my  house  everybody  shall  do  just  as  they  please, 
and  have  their  own  way  if  they  can  find  out  what  it  is.  I 
know  people  will  like  it." 

"I  believe  you,  Pussy,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel;  "but 
houses  don't  grow  on  bushes,  you  know." 

"Well,  haven't  I  six  thousand  dollars,  all  my  own,  that 
grandma  left  me  ?  " 


402  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

"And  how  much  of  a  house  do  you  think  that  would 
buy  ? " 

"Perhaps  as  big  a  one  as  you  and  mother  began  in." 

"You  never  would  be  satisfied  with  such  a  house  as  we 
began  in." 

"  Why  not  ?     Are  we  any  better  than  you  were  ?  " 

"No.  But  nowadays  no  young  folks  are  contented  to 
do  as  we  did." 

"Then,  papa,  you  are  going  to  see  a  new  thing  upon  the 
earth,  for  Harry  and  I  are  going  to  be  pattern  folks  for 
being  rational  and  contented.  We  are  going  to  start  out 
on  a  new  tack  and  bring  in  the  golden  age.  But,  bless  me! 
there  's  Aunt  Maria  coming  down  the  street.  Now,  Harry, 
comes  the  tug  of  war.  I  am  going  now  to  emancipate 
mamma  and  proclaim  the  new  order  of  things, "  and  out  she 
flitted. 

"Mr.  Henderson,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  when  she  had 
gone,  "I  think  it  is  about  certain  that  I  am  to  look  on 
you  as  a  future  member  of  our  family.  I  Jll  be  fair  with 
you,  that  you  may  take  steps  with  your  eyes  open.  My 
daughters  are  supposed  to  be  heiresses,  but,  as  things  are 
tending,  in  a  very  short  time  I  may  be  put  back  to  where 
I  started  in  life  and  have  all  to  begin  over.  My  girls  will 
have  nothing.  I  see  such  a  crisis  impending,  and  I  have 
no  power  to  help  it." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  I,  "while  I  shall  be  sorry  for  your 
trouble,  and  hope  it  may  not  come,  I  shall  be  only  too  glad 
to  prove  my  devotion  to  Eva." 

"It  is  evident,"  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  "that  her  heart  is 
set  on  you,  and,  after  all,  the  only  true  comfort  is  in  hav 
ing  the  one  you  want.  I  myself  never  cared  for  fashion, 
Mr.  Henderson,  nor  parties,  nor  any  of  this  kind  of  fuss 
and  show  the  women  think  so  much  of;  and  I  believe  that 
Eva  is  a  little  like  me.  I  like  to  go  back  to  the  old  place 
in  summer  and  eat  huckleberries  and  milk,  and  see  the 


MAKING   LOVE    TO   ONE'S   FATHER-IN-LAW          403 

cows  come  home  from  pasture,  and  sit  in  father's  old  arm 
chair.  It  would  n't  take  so  much  running  and  scheming 
and  hard  thinking  and  care  to  live  if  folks  were  all  of  my 
mind.  Why,  up  in  New  Hampshire  where  I  came  from, 
there  's  scarcely  ever  an  estate  administered  upon  that  fig 
ures  up  more  than  five  thousand  dollars,  and  yet  they  all 
live  well  —  have  nice  houses,  nice  tables,  give  money  in 
charity,  and  make  a  good  thing  of  life." 

There  was  something  really  quite  pathetic  in  this  burst 
of  confidence  from  the  worthy  man.  Perhaps  I  was  the 
first  one  to  whom  he  had  confessed  the  secret  apprehensions 
with  which  he  was  struggling. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Henderson,  you  never  can  tell  about  in 
vestments.  Stocks  that  seem  to  stand  as  firm  as  the  foun 
dations  of  the  earth,  that  the  very  oldest  and  shrewdest  and 
longest-headed  put  into,  run  down  and  depreciate  —  and 
when  they  get  running  you  can't  draw  out,  you  see.  Now 
I  advanced  capital  for  the  new  Lightning  Line  Railroad  to 
the  amount  of  two  hundred  thousand,  and  pledged  my 
Guatemala  stock  for  the  money,  and  then  arose  this  combi 
nation  against  the  Guatemala  stock  and  it  has  fallen  to  a 
fourth  of  its  value  in  six  months,  and  it  takes  heavy  row 
ing —  heavy.  I 'd  a  great  deal  rather  be  in  father's  old 
place,  with  an  estate  of  five  thousand  dollars,  and  read  my 
newspaper  in  peace,  than  to  have  all  I  have  with  the  mis 
ery  of  managing  it.  I  may  work  out  and  I  may  not." 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

ACCEPTED    AND    ENGAGED 

AND  so  at  last  I  was  accepted,  and  my  engagement  with 
Eva  was  recognized  as  &  fait  accompli.  In  the  family  of 
my  betrothed  were  all  shades  of  acquiescence.  Mrs.  Van 
Arsdel  was  pensively  resigned  to  me  as  a  mysterious  dis 
pensation  of  Providence.  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  though  not  in 
any  way  demonstrative,  showed  an  evident  disposition  to 
enter  into  confidential  relations  with  me.  Ida  was  whole 
hearted  and  cordial;  and  Alice,  after  a  little  reconnoitring, 
joined  our  party  as  a  gay,  generous  young  girl,  naturally 
disposed  to  make  the  best  of  things,  and  favorably  inclined 
toward  the  interests  of  young  lovers. 

Mr.  Trollope,  in  "The  Small  House  at  Allington,"  re 
presents  a  young  man  just  engaged  as  feeling  himself  in  the 
awkward  position  of  a  captive  led  out  in  triumph  for  exhi 
bition.  The  lady  and  her  friends  are  spoken  of  as  march 
ing  him  forth  with  complacency,  like  a  prize  ox  with  rib 
bons  in  his  horns,  unable  to  repress  the  exhibition  of  their 
delight  in  having  entrapped  him.  One  would  infer  from 
this  picture  of  life  such  a  scarcity  of  marriageable  men  that 
the  capture  even  of  such  game  as  young  Crosbie,  who  is 
represented  to  be  an  untitled  young  man,  without  fortune 
or  principle,  is  an  occasion  of  triumph. 

In  our  latitudes,  we  of  the  stronger  sex  are  not  taught 
to  regard  ourselves  as  such  overpoweringly  delightful  acqui 
sitions,  and  the  declaration  of  an  engagement  is  not  with 
us  regarded  as  evidence  of  a  lady's  skill  in  hunting.  I  did 
not,  as  young  Crosbie  is  said  to  have  done,  feel  myself 


ACCEPTED   AND   ENGAGED  405 

somehow  caught.  On  the  contrary,  I  was  lost  in  wonder 
at  my  good  fortune.  If  I  had  found  the  pot  of  gold  at  the 
end  of  the  rainbow,  or  dug  up  the  buried  treasures  of  Cap 
tain  Kidd,  I  could  not  have  seemed  to  myself  more  as  one 
who  dreamed. 

I  wrote  all  about  it  to  my  mother,  who,  if  she  judged 
by  my  letters,  must  have  believed  "Hesperian  fables"  true 
for  the  first  time  in  the  world,  and  that  a  woman  had  been 
specially  made  and  created  out  of  all  impossible  and  fabu 
lous  elements  of  joy.  The  child- wife  of  my  early  days, 
the  dream-wife  of  my  youth,  were  both  living,  moving, 
breathing  in  this  wonderful  reality.  I  tried  to  disguise 
my  good  fortune  —  to  walk  soberly  and  behave  myself 
among  men  as  if  I  were  sensible  and  rational,  and  not 
dazed  and  enchanted.  I  felt  myself  orbed  in  a  magical 
circle,  out  of  which  I  looked  pityingly  on  everybody  that 
was  not  I.  A  spirit  of  universal  match-making  benevo 
lence  possessed  me.  I  wanted  everybody  I  liked  to  be 
engaged.  I  pitied  and  made  allowances  for  everybody  that 
was  not.  How  could  they  be  happy  or  good  that  had  not 
my  fortune?  They  had  not,  they  never  could  have,  an 
Eva.  There  was  but  one  Eva,  and  I  had  her ! 

I  woke  every  morning  with  a  strange,  new  thrill  of  joy. 
Was  it  so  ?  Was  she  still  in  this  world,  or  had  this  im 
possible,  strange  mirage  of  bliss  risen  like  a  mist  and 
floated  heavenward  1  I  trembled  when  I  thought  how  frail 
a  thing  human  life  is.  Was  it  possible  that  she  might 
die  ?  Was  it  possible  that  an  accident  in  a  railroad  car,  a 
waft  of  drapery  toward  an  evening  lamp,  a  thoughtless  false 
step,  a  mistake  in  a  doctor's  prescription,  might  cause  this 
lovely  life  to  break  like  a  bubble,  and  be  utterly  gone,  and 
there  be  no  more  Eva,  never,  nevermore  on  earth?  The 
very  intensity  of  love  and  hope  suggested  the  possibility  of 
the  dreadful  tragedy  that  every  moment  underlies  life; 
that  with  every  joy  connects  the  possibility  of  a  proper- 


406  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

tioned  pain.  Surely  love,  if  nothing  else,  inclines  the  soul 
to  feel  its  helplessness  and  be  prayerful,  to  place  its  trea 
sures  in  a  Father's  hand. 

Sometimes  it  seemed  to  me  too  much  to  hope  for,  that 
she  should  live  to  be  my  wife;  that  the  fabulous  joy  of 
possession  should  ever  be  mine.  Each  morning  I  left  my 
bunch  of  fresh  violets  with  a  greeting  in  it  at  her  door,  and 
assured  myself  that  the  earth  yet  retained  her,  and  all  day 
long  I  worked  with  the  under-thought  of  the  little  boudoir 
where  I  should  meet  her  in  the  evening.  Who  says  mod 
ern  New  York  life  is  prosaic?  The  everlasting  poem  of 
man  and  woman  is  as  fresh  there  at  this  hour  as  among  the 
crocuses  and  violets  of  Eden. 

A  graceful  writer,  in  one  of  our  late  magazines,  speaks 
of  the  freedom  which  a  young  man  feels  when  he  has 
found  the  mistress  and  queen  of  his  life.  He  is  bound  to 
no  other  service,  he  is  anxious  about  no  other  smile  or 
frown.  I  had  been  approved  and  crowned  by  my  Queen  of 
Love  and  Beauty.  If  she  liked  me,  what  matter  about  the 
rest? 

It  did  not  disturb  me  a  particle  to  feel  that  I  was  sub 
mitted  to  as  a  necessity,  rather  than  courted  as  a  blessing, 
by  her  parents.  I  cared  nothing  for  cold  glances  or  indif 
ferent  airs  so  long  as  my  golden-haired  Ariadne  threw  me 
the  clue  by  which  I  threaded  the  labyrinth,  and  gave  me 
the  talisman  by  which  to  open  the  door.  Once  safe  with 
her  in  her  little  "Italy,"  the  boudoir  in  which  we  first 
learned  to  know  each  other,  we  laughed  and  chatted,  mak 
ing  ourselves  a  gay  committee  of  observation  on  the  whole 
world  besides.  Was  there  anybody  so  fortunate  as  we? 
and  was  there  any  end  to  our  subject-matter  for  conversa 
tion  ? 

"You  have  no  idea,  Harry,"  she  said  to  me  the  first 
evening  after  our  engagement  had  been  declared,  "what  a 
time  we  've  been  having  with  Aunt  Maria!  You  know  she 


ACCEPTED   AND   ENGAGED  407 

is  mamma's  oldest  sister,  and  mamma  is  one  of  the  gentle, 
yielding  sort,  and  Aunt  Maria  has  always  ruled  and  reigned 
over  us  all.  She  really  has  a  way  of  ordering  mamma 
about,  and  mamma  I  think  is  positively  afraid  of  her. 
Not  that  she  's  really  ill-tempered,  but  she  is  one  of  the 
sort  that  thinks  it 's  a  matter  of  course  that  she  should 
govern  the  world,  and  is  perfectly  astonished  when  she 
finds  she  can't.  I  have  never  resisted  her  before,  because 
I  have  been  rather  lazy,  and  it  Js  easier  to  give  up  than  to 
fight;  and  besides  one  remembers  one's  catechism,  and 
doesn't  want  to  rise  up  against  one's  pastors  and  masters." 

"But  you  thought  you  had  come  to  a  place  where  amia 
bility  ceased  to  be  a  virtue  ?  "  said  I. 

"Exactly.  Ida  always  said  that  people  must  have  cour 
age  to  be  disagreeable,  or  they  couldn't  be  good  for  much; 
and  so  I  put  on  all  my  terrors,  and  actually  bullied  Aunt 
Maria  into  submission." 

"You  must  have  been  terrific,"  said  I,  laughing. 

"Indeed,  you  ought  to  have  seen  me!  I  astonished  my 
self.  I  told  her  that  she  always  had  domineered  over  us 
all,  but  that  now  the  time  had  come  that  she  must  let  my 
mother  alone,  and  not  torment  her;  that,  as  for  myself,  I 
was  a  woman  and  not  a  child,  and  that  I  should  choose  my 
lot  in  life  for  myself,  as  I  had  a  right  to  do.  I  assure  you, 
there  was  warm  work  for  a  little  while,  but  I  remained 
mistress  of  the  field." 

"  It  was  a  revolutionary  struggle, "  said  I. 

"Exactly,  — a  fight  at  the  barricades;  and  as  a  result  a 
new  government  is  declared.  Mamma  reigns  in  her  own 
house  and  I  am  her  prime  minister.  On  the  whole  I  think 
mamma  is  quite  delighted  to  be  protected  in  giving  me  my 
own  way,  as  she  always  has.  Aunt  Maria  has  shaken 
dreadful  warnings  and  threatenings  at  me,  and  exhausted 
a  perfect  bead-roll  of  instances  of  girls  that  had  married  for 
love  and  come  to  grief.  You  'd  have  thought  that  nothing 


408  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

less  than  beggary  and  starvation  was  before  us;  and  the 
more  I  laughed  the  more  solemn  and  awful  she  grew.  She 
didn't  spare  me.  She  gave  me  a  sad  character.  I  hadn't 
been  educated  for  anything,  and  I  didn't  know  how  to  do 
anything,  and  I  had  no  strength;  in  short,  she  made  out 
such  a  picture  of  my  incapacities  as  may  well  make  you 
tremble. " 

"I  don't  tremble  in  the  least,"  said  I.  "I  only  wish 
we  could  set  up  our  establishment  to-morrow." 

"Aunt  Maria  told  me  that  it  was  ungenerous  of  me  to 
get  engaged  to  a  man  of  no  fortune,  now  when  papa  is 
struggling  with  these  heavy  embarrassments,  and  can't 
afford  the  money  to  marry  me,  and  set  me  up  in  the  style 
he  would  feel  obliged  to.  You  see,  Aunt  Maria  is  think 
ing  of  a  wedding  twice  as  big  as  the  Elmores,  and  a  trous 
seau  twice  as  fine,  and  a  brown-stone  front  palace  twice  as 
high  and  long  and  broad  as  the  Bivingtons' ;  and  twice  as 
many  coupes  and  Park  wagons  and  phaetons  as  Maria  Riv- 
ington  is  to  have;  and  if  papa  is  to  get  all  this  for  me,  it 
will  be  the  ruin  of  him,  she  says." 

"And  you  told  her  that  we  didn't  want  any  of  them? " 
said  I. 

"To  be  sure  I  did.  I  told  her  that  we  didn't  want  one 
of  these  vulgar,  noisy,  showy,  expensive  weddings,  and 
that  I  didn't  mean  to  send  to  Paris  for  my  things.  That 
a  young  lady  who  respected  herself  was  always  supplied 
with  clothes  good  enough  to  be  married  with;  that  we 
did  n't  want  a  brown-stone  palace,  and  could  be  very  happy 
without  any  carriage ;  and  that  there  were  plenty  of  cheap 
little  houses  in  unfashionable  streets  we  could  be  very 
happy  in;  that  people  who  really  cared  for  us  would  come 
to  see  us,  live  where  we  would,  and  that  those  who  didn't 
care  might  keep  away." 

"  Bravo,  my  queen !  and  you  might  tell  her  how  Madame 
Re'camier  drew  all  the  wit  and  fashion  of  Paris  to  her  little 


ACCEPTED    AND    ENGAGED  409 

brick-floored  rooms  in  the  old  Abbey.  People  will  always 
want  to  come  where  you  are." 

"I  don't  set  up  for  a  Re'camier,"  she  exclaimed,  "but  I 
do  say  that  where  people  have  good  times,  and  keep  a 
bright  pleasant  fireside,  and  are  always  glad  to  see  friends, 
there  will  always  be  friends  to  come;  and  friend*  are  the 
ones  we  want." 

"Ah!  we  will  show  them  how  things  can  be  done,  won't 
we  ?  " 

"Indeed  we  will.  I  always  wanted  a  nice  little  house 
all  my  own  where  I  could  show  what  I  could  do.  I  have 
quantities  of  pet  ideas  of  what  a  home  should  be,  and  I 
always  fancied  I  could  make  things  lovely." 

"If  you  couldn't,  who  could?"   said  I,  enchanted. 

"See  here,"  she  added,  "I  have  just  begun  to  think 
what  we  have  to  start  with.  All  the  pictures  in  this  little 
room  are  mine,  bought  with  my  own  allowance;  they  are 
my  very  own.  Pictures,  you  know,  are  a  great  thing,  they 
half  furnish  a  house.  Then  you  know  that  six  thousand 
dollars  that  grandmamma  left  me!  Besides,  sir,  only 
think,  a  whole  silver  cream-pitcher  and  six  tablespoons! 
Why,  Harry,  I  'm  an  heiress  in  my  own  right,  even  if 
poor  papa  should  come  to  grief." 

Something  in  this  talk  reminded  me  of  the  far-off  child 
ish  days  when  Susie  and  I  made  our  play-houses  under  the 
old  butternut-tree,  and  gathered  in  our  stores  of  chestnuts 
and  walnuts  and  laid  our  grave  plans  for  life  as  innocently 
as  two  squirrels,  and  I  laughed  with  a  tear  in  my  eye.  I 
recounted  to  her  the  little  idyl,  and  said  that  it  had  been 
a  foreshadowing  of  her,  and  that  perhaps  my  child-angel 
had  guided  me  to  her. 

"  Some  day  you  shall  take  me  up  there,  Harry,  and  show 
me  where  you  and  she  played  together,  and  we  will  gather 
strawberries  and  lilies  and  hear  the  bobolinks,"  she  said. 
"  How  little  the  world  knows  how  cheap  happiness  is ! " 


410  MY   WIFE    AND    I 

"To  those  that  know  where  to  look  for  it,"  said  I. 

"I  heard  papa  telling  you  that  half  the  estates  on  which 
good  New  England  families  live  in  comfort  up  there  in  the 
country  don't  amount  to  more  than  five  thousand  dollars, 
yet  they  live  well,  and  they  have  all  those  lovely  things 
around  them  free.  Here  in  this  artificial  city  life  people 
struggle  and  suffer  to  get  money  for  things  they  don't  want 
and  don't  need.  Nobody  wants  these  great  parties,  with 
their  candy  pyramids  and  their  artificial  flowers  and  their 
rush  and  crush  that  tire  one  to  death,  and  yet  they  pay  as 
much  for  one  as  would  keep  one  of  those  country  houses 
going  for  a  year.  I  do  wish  we  could  live  there !  " 

"I  do  too  —  with  all  my  heart,  but  my  work  must  lie 
here.  We  must  make  what  the  French  call  an  interior 
here  in  New  York.  I  shall  have  to  be  within  call  of 
printers  and  the  slave  of  printers'  devils,  but  in  summer 
we  will  go  up  into  the  mountains  and  stay  with  my 
mother,  and  have  it  all  to  ourselves." 

"Do  you  know,  Harry,"  said  Eva  after  a  pause,  "I  can 
see  that  Sophie  Elmore  really  does  admire  Sydney.  I 
can't  help  wondering  how  one  can,  but  I  see  she  does. 
Now  don't  you  hope  she  '11  get  engaged  to  him? " 

"Certainly  I  do,"  said  I.  "I  want  all  nice  people  to  be 
engaged  if  they  have  as  good  a  time  as  we  do.  It's  my 
solution  of  the  woman  question." 

"Well,  do  you  know  I  managed  my  last  interview  with 
Sydney  with  reference  to  that  1  I  made  what  you  would 
call  a  split-shot  in  croquet  to  send  him  from  me  and  to 
her." 

"How  did  you  do  iU  " 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me  to  describe.  There  are  ways  of 
managing  these  men  that  are  incommunicable.  One  can 
play  on  them  as  upon  a  piano,  and  I  '11  wager  you  a  pair 
of  gloves  that  Sydney  goes  off  after  Sophie.  She  's  too 
good  for  him,  but  she  likes  him,  and  Sophie  will  make  him 


ACCEPTED   AND    ENGAGED  411 

a  nice  wife.  But  only  think  of  poor  Aunt  Maria!  It 
will  be  the  last  stroke  that  breaks  the  camel's  back  to  have 
the  Elmores  get  Sydney." 

"So  long  as  he  doesn't  get  you,  I  shall  be  delighted," 
said  I. 

"Now  only  think,"  she  added,  "this  spring  I  was  drift 
ing  into  an  engagement  with  that  man  just  because  I  was 
idle,  and  blasee,  and  didn't  know  what  to  do  next,  and 
did  n't  have  force  enough  to  keep  saying  '  No  '  to  mamma 
and  Aunt  Maria  and  all  the  rest  of  them." 

"And  what  gave  you  force?  " 

"Well,  sir,  I  couldn't  help  seeing  that  somebody  else 
was  getting  very  prettily  entangled,  and  I  felt  a  sort  of 
philosophic  interest  in  watching  the  process,  and  somehow 
—  you  know  —  I  was  rather  sorry  for  you. " 

"Well?" 

"Well,  and  I  began  to  feel  that  anybody  else  would  be 
intolerable,  and  you  know  they  say  there  must  be  some 
body." 

"But  me  you  could  tolerate?    Thank  you  for  so  much." 

"Yes,  Harry,  I  think  you  are  rather  agreeable.  I 
couldn't  fancy  myself  sitting  a  whole  evening  with  Sydney 
as  I  do  with  you.  I  always  had  to  resort  to  whist  and 
all  sorts  of  go-betweens  to  keep  him  entertained;  and  I 
couldn't  fancy  that  I  ever  should  run  to  the  window  to 
see  if  he  were  coming  in  the  evening,  or  long  for  him  to 
come  back  when  he  was  on  a  journey.  I  'in  afraid  I  should 
long  quite  the  other  way  and  want  him  to  go  journeys 
often.  But  Sophie  will  do  all  these  things.  Poor  man! 
somebody  ought  to,  for  he  would  n't  be  a  bit  satisfied  if 
his  wife  were  not  devoted.  I  told  him  that,  and  told  him 
that  he  needed  a  woman  capable  of  more  devotion  than  I 
could  feel,  and  flattered  him  up  a  little  —  poor  fellow,  he 
took  to  it  so  kindly !  And  after  a  while  I  contrived  to  let 
fall  a  nice  bit  of  a  compliment  I  had  once  heard  about  him 


412  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

from  a  lady,  who  I  remarked  was  usually  a  little  fastidious, 
and  hard  to  please,  and  you  ought  to  have  seen  how  ani 
mated  he  looked!  A  mouse  in  view  of  a  bit  of  toasted 
cheese  never  was  more  excited.  I  wouldn't  tell  him  who 
it  was,  yet  I  sent  him  off  on  such  a  track  that  he  inevita 
bly  will  find  out.  That 's  what  I  call  sending  Sophie  a 
ball  to  play  on.  You  see  if  they  don't  have  a  great  wed 
ding  about  the  time  we  have  our  little  one ! " 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

CONGRATULATIONS,    ETC. 

THE  announcement  of  my  engagement  brought  the  usual 
influx  of  congratulations  by  letter  and  in  person.  Bolton 
was  gravely  delighted,  shook  my  hand  paternally,  and  even 
promised  to  quit  his  hermit  hole  and  go  with  me  to  call 
upon  the  Van  Arsdels. 

As  to  Jim,  he  raised  a  notable  breeze  among  the  papers. 
" Engaged !  —  you,  sly  dog,  after  all!  Well!  well!  Let 
your  sentimental  fellows  alone  for  knowing  what  they  're 
about.  All  your  sighing,  and  poetry,  and  friendship,  and 
disinterestedness  and  all  that  don't  go  for  nothing.  Up 
to  (biz'  after  all!  Well,  you've  done  a  tolerably  fair 
stroke!  Those  Van  Arsdel  girls  are  good  for  a  hundred 
thousand  down,  and  the  rest  will  come  in  the  will.  Well, 
joy  to  you,  my  boy!  Remember  your  old  grandfather." 

Now  there  was  no  sort  of  use  in  going  into  high  heroics 
with  Jim,  and  I  had  to  resign  myself  to  being  congratulated 
as  a  successful  fortune-hunter,  a  thing  against  which  all 
my  resolution  and  all  my  pride  had  always  been  directed. 
I  had  every  appearance  of  being  caught  in  the  fact,  and 
Jim  was  prepared  to  make  the  most  of  the  situation. 

"I  declare,  Hal,"  he  said,  perching  himself  astride  a 
chair,  "such  things  make  a  fellow  feel  solemn.  We  never 
know  when  our  turn  may  come.  Nobody  feels  safe  a  min 
ute;  it 's  you  to-day  and  me  to-morrow.  I  may  be  engaged 
before  the  week  is  out  —  who  knows  ?  " 

"If  nothing  worse  than  that  happens  to  you,  you 
need  n't  be  frightened,"  said  I.  "Better  try  your  luck.  I 
don't  find  it  bad  to  take  at  all." 


414  MY   WIFE   AND  I 

"Oh,  but  think  of  the  consequences,  man!  Wedding 
journey,  bandboxes  and  parasols  to  look  after;  beefsteaks 
and  coffee  for  two;  house  rent  and  water  taxes;  marketing, 
groceries ;  all  coming  down  on  you  like  a  thousand  of  brick ! 
And  then,  'My  dear,  won't  you  see  to  this?'  and  'My 
dear,  have  you  seen  to  that  ?  '  and  *  My  dear,  what  makes 
you  let  it  rain  1  '  and  '  My  dear,  how  many  times  must  I 
tell  you  I  don't  like  hot  weather?  '  and  'My  dear,  won't 
you  just  step  out  and  get  me  the  new  moon  and  seven  stars 
to  trim  my  bonnet?  '  That 's  what  I  call  getting  a  fellow 
into  business!  It 's  a  solemn  thing,  Hal.  now  I  tell  you, 
this  getting  married !  " 

"If  it  makes  you  solemn,  Jim,  I  shall  believe  it,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  when  is  it  to  come  off  ?  When  is  the  blissful 
day  ? " 

"No  time  fixed  as  yet,"  said  I. 

"Why  not?  You  ought  to  drive  things.  Nothing 
under  heaven  to  wait  for  except  to  send  to  Paris  for  the 
fol-de-rols.  Well,  I  shall  call  up  and  congratulate.  If  Miss 
Alice  there  would  take  me,  there  might  be  a  pair  of  us. 
Wouldn't  it  be  jolly?  I  say,  Hal,  how  did  you  get  it 
off?" 

"Get  what  off?" 

"Why,  the  question." 

"You'll  have  to  draw  on  your  imagination  for  that, 
Jim." 

"I  tell  you  what,  Harry,  I  won't  offer  myself  to  a  girl 
on  uncertainties.  I  'd  pump  like  thunder  first  and  find 
out  whether  she  'd  have  me  or  not." 

"I  fancy,"  said  I,  "that  if  you  undertake  that  process 
with  Miss  Alice,  you  '11  have  your  match.  I  think  she 
has  as  many  variations  of  yes  and  no  as  a  Frenchwoman." 

"She  doesn't  catch  this  child,"  said  Jim,  "though  she  's 
'mag,'  and  no  mistake.  Soberly,  she  's  one  of  the  nicest 
girls  in  New  York  —  but  Jim's  time  isn't  come  yet. 


CONGRATULATIONS,  ETC.  415 

'  Oh,  no,  no  !  not  for  Joe, 
Not  for  Joseph,  if  he  knows  it, 
Oh,  dear,  110  ! ' 

So  now,  Hal,  don't  disturb  my  mind  with  these  trifles. 
I  've  got  three  books  to  review  before  dinner,  and  only  an 
hour  and  a  half  to  do  it  in." 

In  my  secret  heart  I  began  to  wish  that  the  embarrass 
ments  that  were  hanging  over  the  Van  Arsdel  fortunes 
would  culminate  and  come  to  a  crisis  one  way  or  another, 
so  that  our  position  might  appear  to  the  world  what  it 
really  was.  Mr.  Van  Arsdel' s  communications  to  me  were 
so  far  confidential  that  I  did  not  feel  that  I  could  allude 
to  the  real  state  of  things  even  with  my  most  intimate 
friends;  so  that  while  I  was  looked  upon  from  the  outside 
as  the  prospective  winner  of  an  heiress,  Eva  and  I  were 
making  all  our  calculations  for  the  future  on  the  footing  of 
the  strictest  prudence  and  economy.  Everybody  was  look 
ing  for  splendor  and  festivities;  we  were  enacting  a  secret 
pastoral,  in  which  we  forsook  the  grandeurs  of  the  world 
to  wander  forth  hand  in  hand  in  paths  of  simplicity  and 
frugality. 

A  week  after  this  I  received  a  note  from  Caroline  which 
announced  her  arrival  in  the  city,  and  I  lost  no  time  in 
waiting  on  her  and  receiving  her  congratulations  on  my 
good  fortune.  Eva  and  Ida  Van  Arsdel  were  prompt  in 
calling  upon  her,  and  the  three  struck  up  a  friendship 
which  grew  with  that  tropical  rapidity  and  luxuriance 
characteristic  of  the  attachments  of  women.  Ida  and  Caro 
line  became  at  once  bosom  friends. 

"I'm  so  glad,"  Eva  commented  to  me,  "because  you 
and  I  are  together  so  much  now  that  I  was  afraid  Ida 
might  feel  a  little  out  in  the  cold;  I  have  been  her  pet  and 
stand-by.  The  fact  is,  I  'in  like  that  chemical  thing  that 
dyers  call  a  mordant  —  something  that  has  an  affinity  for 
two  different  colors  that  have  no  affinity  for  each  other. 


416  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

I  'm  just  enough  like  mamma  and  just  enough  like  Ida  to 
hold  the  two  together.  They  both  tell  me  everything,  and 
neither  of  them  can  do  without  me." 

"I  can  well  believe  that,"  said  I,  "it  is  an  experience 
in  which  I  sympathize.  But  I  am  coming  in  now,  like 
the  third  power  in  a  chemical  combination,  to  draw  you 
away  from  both.  I  shouldn't  think  they  'd  like  it." 

"Oh,  well,  it's  the  way  of  nature!  Mamma  left  her 
mother  for  papa  —  but  Ida !  —  I'm  glad  for  her  to  have  so 
nice  a  friend  step  in  just  now  —  one  that  has  all  her  pecu 
liar  tastes  and  motives.  I  wish  she  could  go  to  Paris  and 
study  with  Ida  when  she  goes  next  year.  Do  you  know, 
Harry,  I  used  to  think  you  were  engaged  to  this  cousin  of 
yours  ?  Why  were  n't  you  ?  " 

"  She  never  would  have  had  me,  —  her  heart  was  gone 
to  somebody  else.'7 

"Why  isn't  she  married,  then?" 

"Oh!  the  course  of  true  love,  you  know." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"She  never  made  me  her  confidant,"  said  I  evasively. 

"Tell  me  who  it  was,  at  all  events,"  demanded  she. 

"Bolton." 

"What!  that  serious,  elegant  Bolton  that  you  brought 
to  call  on  us  the  other  night  1  We  all  liked  him  so  much ! 
What  can  be  the  matter  there  1  WThy,  I  think  he  's  superb, 
and  she  's  just  the  match  for  him.  What  broke  it  off? " 

"You  know  I  told  you  she  never  made  me  her  confi 
dant." 

"Nor  he,  either?" 

"Well,"  said  I,  feeling  myself  cornered,  "I  throw  my 
self  on  your  mercy.  It 's  another  man's  secret,  and  I 
ought  not  to  tell  you,  but  if  you  ask  me  I  certainly  shall." 

"Eight  or  wrong?  " 

"Yes,  fair  Eve,  just  as  Adam  ate  the  apple;  so  beware!" 

"I'm  just  dying  to  know,  but  if  you  really  ought  not 


CONGRATULATIONS,  ETC.  417 

to  tell  me  I  won't  tease  for  it;  but  I  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Harry,  if  I  were  you  I  should  bring  them  together." 

"Would  you  dare  take  the  responsibility  of  bringing  any 
two  together  ? " 

"I  suppose  I  should.      I  am  a  daring  young  woman." 

"I  have  not  your  courage, "  said  I,  "but  if  it  will  do  you 
any  good  to  know,  Bolton  is  in  a  fair  way  to  renew  the 
acquaintance,  though  he  meant  not  to  do  it." 

"  You  can  tell  me  how  that  happened,  I  suppose  1  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  at  your  service.  Simply,  the  meeting  was 
effected  as  some  others  of  fateful  results  have  been,  —  in 
a  New  York  street  car." 

"Aha!"  she  said,  laughing. 

"Yes;  he  was  traveling  up  Sixth  Avenue  the  other 
night  when  a  drunken  conductor  was  very  rude  to  two 
ladies.  Bolton  interfered,  made  the  man  behave  himself, 
waited  on  the  ladies  across  the  street  to  their  door  as  some 
body  else  once  did,  —  when,  behold !  a  veil  is  raised,  the 
light  of  the  lamp  flashes,  and  one  says  *  Mr.  Bolton !  '  and 
the  other  '  Miss  Simmons ! '  and  the  romance  is  opened. " 

"How  perfectly  charming!  Of  course  he  '11  call  and  see 
her.  He  must,  you  know." 

"That  has  proved  the  case  in  my  experience." 

"And  all  the  rest  will  follow.  They  are  made  for  each 
other.  Poor  Ida,  she  won't  have  Caroline  to  go  to  Paris 
with  her!" 

"No1?  I  think  she  will.  In  fact,  I  think  it  would  be 
the  best  thing  Caroline  could  do." 

"You  do!     You  don't  want  them  to  be  married? " 

"I  don't  know.  I  wouldn't  say  —  in  fact,  it 's  a  case  I 
wouldn't  for  the  world  decide." 

"Oh,  heavens!  Here 's  a  mystery,  an  obstacle,  an  un 
known  horror,  and  you  can't  tell  me  what  it  is,  and  I  must 
not  ask.  Why,  this  is  perfectly  dreadful!  It  isn't  any 
thing  against  Bolton  ? " 


418  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Bolton  is  the  man  I  most  love,   most  respect,   most 
revere,"  I  said. 

"What  can  it  be  then?" 

"Suppose  we  leave  it  to  fate  and  the  future,"  said  I. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    EXPLOSION 

"HAL!  it's  too  confounded  bad!"  said  Jim  Fellows, 
bursting  into  my  room;  "your  apple-cart 's  upset  for  good. 
The  Van  Arsdels  are  blown  to  thunder.  The  old  one  has 
failed  for  a  million.  Gone  to  smash  on  that  Lightning 
Railroad,  and  there  you  all  are!  Hang  it  all,  I'm  sorry 
now!"  And  to  say  the  truth  Jim's  face  did  wear  an  air 
of  as  much  concern  as  his  features  were  capable  of. 
"Seems  to  me,"  he  added,  "you  take  it  coolly." 

"The  fact  is,  Jim,  I  knew  all  about  this  the  day  I  pro 
posed.  I  knew  it  must  come,  and  I  'm  glad,  since  it  had 
to  be,  to  have  it  over  and  be  done  with  it.  Mr.  Van 
Arsdel  told  me  exactly  what  to  expect  when  I  engaged 
myself. " 

"And  you  and  Miss  Eva  Van  Arsdel  are  going  to  join 
hands  and  play  '  Babes  in  the  Wood  '  1  " 

"Xo,"  said  I,  "we  are  going  to  play  the  interesting 
little  ballet  of  '  Man  and  Wife. '  I  am  to  work  for  her, 
and  all  that  I  win  is  to  be  put  into  her  hands." 

"Hum!  I  fancy  she'll  find  things  on  quite  another 
scale  when  it  comes  to  your  dividends." 

"We  're  not  at  all  afraid  of  that  — you  '11  see." 

"She's  a  trump  —  that  girl!"  said  Jim;  "now  that's 
what  I  call  the  right  sort  of  thing.  And  there 's  Alice! 
Now,  I  declare  it 's  too  confounded  rough  on  Alice!  Just 
as  she  's  come  out,  and  such  a  splendid  girl,  too !  " 

At  this  moment  the  office  boy  brought  up  a  note. 

"From  Eva,"  I  said,  opening  it. 


420  MY   WIFE   AND  I 

It  ran  thus :  — 

Well,  dearest,  the  storm  has  burst  and  nobody  is  killed 
yet.  Papa  told  mamma  last  night,  and  mamma  told  us 
this  morning,  and  we  are  all  agreed  to  be  brave  as  possible 
and  make  it  seem  as  light  as  we  can  to  papa.  Dear  papa! 
I  know  it  was  for  us  he  struggled,  it  was  for  us  he  was 
anxious,  and  we  '11  show  him  we  can  do  very  well.  Come 
down  now.  Mamma  says  she  feels  as  if  she  could  trust 
you  as  a  son.  Isn't  that  kind? 

Your  own  EVA. 

"I  'm  going  right  down  to  the  house,"  said  I. 

"I  declare,"  said  Jim,  "I  want  to  do  something,  and 
one  doesn't  know  what.  I  say,  I'll  buy  a  bouquet  for 
Alice,  and  you  just  take  it  with  my  compliments."  So 
saying  Jim  ran  down  with  me,  crossed  to  a  florist's  cellar, 
and  selected  the  most  extravagant  of  the  floral  treasures 
there. 

"Hang  it  all!'-'  he  said,  "I  wouldn't  send  her  such  a 
one  when  she  was  up  in  the  world,  but  now  a  fellow  wants 
to  do  all  he  can,  you  know." 

"Jim,"  said  I,  "you  are  not  a  mere  smooth-water 
friend." 

"ISlot  I.  'Go  for  the  under  dog  in  the  fight'  is  my 
principle,  so  get  along  with  you  and  stay  as  long  as  you 
like.  I  can  do  your  book  notices;  I  know  just  the  sort 
of  thing  you  would  say,  you  know  —  do  'em  up  brown,  so 
that  you  wouldn't  know  my  ideas  from  your  own." 

Arrived  at  the  Van  Arsdel  house,  I  thought  I  could  see 
and  feel  the  traces  of  a  crisis,  by  that  mysterious  intimation 
that  fills  the  very  air  of  a  place  where  something  has  just 
happened.  The  elegant  colored  servant  who  opened  the 
door  wore  an  aspect  of  tender  regret  like  an  undertaker  at 
a  funeral. 


THE   EXPLOSION  421 

"Miss  Eva  was  in  her  boudoir,"  he  said,  "but  Miss  Alice 
hadn't  come  down."  I  sent  up  the  bouquet  with  Mr.  Fel 
lows  's  compliments,  and  made  the  best  of  my  way  to  Eva. 

She  was  in  the  pretty  little  nook  in  which  we  had  had 
our  first  long  talk,  and  which  now  she  called  our  "Italy." 
I  found  her  a  little  pale  and  serious,  but  on  the  whole  in 
cheerful  spirits. 

"It's  about  as  bad  as  it  can  be,"  said  she.  "It  seems 
papa  has  made  himself  personally  responsible  for  the  Light 
ning  Railroad  and  borrowed  money  to  put  into  it,  and  then 
there  's  something  or  other  about  the  stock  he  borrowed  on 
running  down  till  it  is  n't  worth  anything.  I  don't  under 
stand  a  word  of  it,  only. I  know  that  the  upshot  of  it  all 
is,  papa  is  going  to  give  up  all  he  has  and  begin  over. 
This  house  and  furniture  will  be  put  into  a  broker's  hands 
and  advertised  for  sale.  All  the  pictures  are  going  to 
Goupil's  sale  rooms  and  will  make  quite  a  nice  gallery." 

"Except  yours  in  this  room,"  said  I. 

"Ah,  well!  I  thought  we  should  keep  these,  but  I  find 
papa  is  very  sensitive  about  giving  up  everything  that  is 
really  his  —  and  these  are  his  in  fact.  I  bought  them  with 
his  money.  At  all  events,  let  them  go.  We  won't  care, 
will  we?" 

"Not  so  long  as  we  have  each  other,"  said  I.  "For  my 
part,  though  I  'm  sorry  for  you  all,  yet  I  bless  the  stroke 
that  brings  you  to  me.  You  see,  we  must  make  a  new 
home  at  once,  you  and  I;  isn't  it  so?  Now,  hear  me;  let 
us  be  married  in  June,  the  month  of  months,  and  for  our 
wedding  journey  we  '11  go  up  to  the  mountains  and  see  my 
mother.  It 's  perfectly  lovely  up  there.  Shall  it  be  so? " 

"As  you  will,  Harry.  And  it  will  be  all  the  better  so, 
because  Ida  is  going  to  sail  for  Paris  sooner  than  she 
anticipated. " 

"Why  does  Ida  do  that?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Ida  has  been  the  manager  of  papa's  for- 


422  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

eign  correspondence  and  written  all  the  letters  for  three 
years  past,  and  papa  has  paid  her  a  large  salary,  of  which 
she  has  spent  scarcely  anything.  She  has  invested  it  to 
make  her  studies  with  in  Paris.  She  offered  this  to  papa, 
but  he  would  not  take  it.  He  told  her  it  was  no  more  his 
than  the  salary  of  any  other  of  his  clerks,  and  that  if  she 
wouldn't  make  him  very  unhappy  she  would  take  it  and 
go  to  Paris;  and  by  going  immediately  she  could  arrange 
some  of  his  foreign  business.  So,  you  see,  she  will  stay  to 
see  us  married  and  then  sail." 

"We  '11  be  married  in  the  same  church  where  we  put  up 
the  Easter  crosses,"  said  I. 

"How  little  we  dreamed  it  then,"  she  said;  "and  that 
reminds  me,  sir,  where  's  my  glove  that  you  stole  on  that 
occasion?  You  naughty  boy,  you  thought  nobody  saw 
you,  but  somebody  did." 

"Your  glove,"  said  I,  "is  safe  and  sound  in  my  reli 
quary  along  with  sundry  other  treasures." 

" You  unprincipled  creature !  what  are  they?     Confess." 

"Well!  a  handkerchief." 

"  Wretched  man !  and  besides  ?  " 

"Two  hairpins,  a  faded  rose,  two  beads  that  dropped 
from  your  croquet  suit,  and  a  sleeve-button.  Then  there 
is  a  dry  sprig  of  myrtle  that  you  dropped  on,  let  me  see, 
the  14th  of  April,  when  you  were  out  at  the  Park  in  one 
of  those  rustic  arbors." 

"And  you  were  sitting  glowering  like  an  owl  in  an  ivy 
bush.  I  remember  I  saw  you  there." 

We  both  found  ourselves  laughing  very  much  louder 
than  circumstances  seemed  really  to  require,  when  Eva 
heard  her  father's  footstep  and  checked  herself.  "There 
goes  poor  papa.  Isn't  it  a  shame  that  we  laugh?  We 
ought  to  be  sober,  now,  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't. 
I'm  one  of  the  imponderable  elastic  gases;  you  can't  keep 
me  down." 


THE   EXPLOSION  423 

"  One  may  '  as  well  laugh  as  cry, '  under  all  circum 
stances,"  said  I. 

"Better,  a  dozen  times.  But  seriously  and  soberly,  I 
believe  that  even  papa,  now  it 's  all  over,  feels  relieved. 
It  was  while  he  was  struggling,  fearing,  dreading,  afraid  to 
tell  us,  that  he  had  the  worst  of  it." 

"Nothing  is  ever  so  bad  as  one's  fears,"  said  I.  "There 
is  always  some  hope  even  at  the  bottom  of  Pandora's  box." 

"Sententious,  Mr.  Editor,  but  true.  Now  in  illustra 
tion.  Last  week  Ida  and  I  wrote  to  the  boys  at  Cambridge 
all  about  what  we  feared  was  coming,  and  this  very  morn 
ing  we  had  such  nice  manly  letters  from  both  of  them.  If 
we  hadn't  been  in  trouble  we  never  should  have  known 
half  what  good  fellows  they  are.  Look  here,"  she  said, 
opening  a  letter,  "  Tom  says,  '  Tell  father  that  I  can  take 
care  of  myself.  I  'm  in  my  senior  year  and  the  rest  of  the 
course  isn't  worth  waiting  for,  and  I've  had  an  opportu 
nity  to  pitch  in  with  a  surveying  party  on  the  Northern 
Railroad  along  with  my  chum.  I  shall  work  like  sixty, 
and  make  myself  so  essential  that  they  can't  do  without 
me.  And,  you  see,  the  first  that  will  be  known  of  me  I 
shall  be  one  of  the  leading  surveyors  of  the  day.  So  have 
no  care  for  me.'  And  here's  a  letter  from  Will  which 
says,  'Why  didn't  father  tell  us  before?  We've  spent 
ever  so  much  more  than  we  needed,  but  are  going  about 
financial  retrenchments  with  a  vengeance.  Last  week  I 
attended  the  boat-race  at  Worcester  and  sent  an  account  of 
it  to  the  "Argus,"  written  off-hand,  just  for  the  fun  of  it. 
I  got  a  prompt  reply,  wanting  to  engage  me  to  go  on  a  re 
porting  tour  of  all  the  great  election  meetings  for  them. 
I'm  to  have  thirty  dollars  a  week  and  all  expenses  paid; 
so,  you  see,  I  step  into  the  press  at  once.  WTe  shall  sell  our 
pictures  and  furniture  to  some  freshies  that  are  coming  in, 
and  wind  up  matters  so  as  not  to  come  on  father  for  any 
thing  till  he  gets  past  these  straits.  Tell  mother  not  to 


424  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

worry,  she  shall  be  taken  care  of;  she  shall  have  Tom  and 
me  both  to  work  for  her. '  ' 

"They  are  splendid  fellows!"  said  I,  "and  it  is  worth 
a  crisis  to  see  how  well  they  behave  in  it.  Well,  then," 
I  resumed,  "  our  wedding  day  shall  be  fixed,  say  for  the 
14th  of  June  ?  " 

"How  very  statistical!  1 'm  sure  I  can't  say.  I  've  got 
to  talk  with  mamma  and  all  the  powers  that  be,  and  settle 
my  own  head.  Don't  let 's  set  a  day  yet;  it  soils  the  blue 
line  of  the  distance  —  nothing  like  those  pearl  tints.  Our 
drawing  master  used  to  tell  us  one  definite  touch  would 
spoil  them." 

"For  the  present,  then,  it  is  agreed  that  we  are  to  be 
married  generally  in  the  month  of  June  1 "  said  I. 

"P.  P. — Providence  permitting,"  said  she  —  "Provi 
dence,  meaning  mamma,  Ida,  Aunt  Maria,  and  all  the 
rest." 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  WEDDING  AND  THE  TALK  OVER  THE  PRAYER- 
BOOK 

IF  novels  are  to  be  considered  true  pictures  of  real  life 
we  must  believe  that  the  fall  from  wealth  to  poverty  is  a 
less  serious  evil  in  America  than  in  any  other  known  quar 
ter  of  the  world. 

In  English  novels  the  failure  of  a  millionaire  is  repre 
sented  as  bringing  results  much  the  same  as  the  commission 
of  an  infamous  crime.  Poor  old  Mr.  Sedley  fails,  and 
forthwith  all  his  acquaintances  cut  him;  nobody  calls  on  his 
wife  or  knows  her  in  the  street;  the  family  who  have  all 
along  been  courting  his  daughter  for  their  son,  and  kissing 
the  ground  at  her  feet,  now  command  the  son  to  break  with 
her,  and  turn  him  out  of  doors  for  marrying  her. 

In  America  it  is  quite  otherwise.  A  man  fails  without 
losing  friends,  neighbors,  and  the  consideration  of  society. 
He  moves  into  a  modest  house,  find  some  means  of  honest 
livelihood,  and  everybody  calls  on  his  wife  as  before. 
Friends  and  neighbors  as  they  have  opportunity  are  glad 
to  stretch  forth  a  helping  hand,  and  a  young  fellow  who 
should  break  his  engagement  with  the  daughter  at  such  a 
crisis  would  simply  be  scouted  as  infamous. 

Americans  have  been  called  worshipers  of  the  almighty 
dollar,  and  they  certainly  are  not  backward  in  that  species 
of  devotion,  but  still  these  well-known  facts  show  that  our 
worship  is  not,  after  all,  so  absolute  as  that  of  other  quar 
ters  of  the  world. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdel  commanded  the  respect  and  sympathy 


426  MY    WIFE    AND   I 

of  the  influential  men  of  New  York.  The  inflexible  hon 
esty  and  honor  with  which  he  gave  up  all  things  to  his 
creditors  won  sympathy,  and  there  was  a  united  effort 
made  to  procure  for  him  an  appointment  in  the  Custom 
House,  which  would  give  him  a  comfortable  income.  In 
short,  by  the  time  that  my  wedding  day  arrived,  the  family 
might  be  held  as  having  fallen  from  wealth  into  compe 
tence.  The  splendid  establishment  on  Fifth  Avenue  was 
to  be  sold.  It  was,  in  fact,  already  advertised,  and  our 
wedding  was  to  be  the  last  act  of  the  family  drama  in  it. 
After  that  we  were  to  go  to  my  mother's,  in  the  mountains 
of  New  Hampshire,  and  Mr.  Van  Arsdel's  family  were  to 
spend  the  summer  at  the  old  farm-homestead  where  his 
aged  parents  yet  kept  house. 

Our  wedding  preparations  therefore  went  forward  with 
a  good  degree  of  geniality  on  the  part  of  the  family,  and 
with  many  demonstrations  of  sympathy  and  interest  on  the 
part  of  friends  and  relations.  A  genuine  love-marriage 
always  and  everywhere  evokes  a  sort  of  instinctive  warmth 
and  sympathy.  The  most  worldly  are  fond  of  patronizing 
it  as  a  delightful  folly,  and  as  Eva  had  been  one  of  the 
most  popular  girls  of  her  set  she  was  flooded  with  presents. 

And  now  the  day  of  days  was  at  hand,  and  for  the  last 
time  I  went  up  the  steps  of  the  Van  Arsdel  mansion  to 
spend  a  last  evening  with  Eva  Van  Arsdel. 

She  met  me  at  the  door  of  her  boudoir:  "Harry,  here 
you  are !  oh,  I  have  no  end  of  things  to  tell  you !  —  the 
door-bell  has  been  ringing  all  day,  and  a  perfect  storm  of 
presents.  We  have  duplicates  of  all  the  things  that  nobody 
can  do  without.  I  believe  we  have  six  pie-knives  and  four 
sugar-sifters  and  three  egg-boilers  and  three  china  hens  to 
sit  on  eggs,  and  a  perfect  meteoric  shower  of  salt-cellars. 
I  couldn't  even  count  them." 

"Oh,  well!  Salt  is  the  symbol  of  hospitality,"  said  I, 
"so  we  can't  have  too  many." 


THE    WEDDING  427 

"And  look  here,  Harry,  the  wedding  dress  has  come 
home.  Think  of  the  unheard-of  incomprehensible  virtue 
of  Tullegig!  I  don't  think  she  ever  had  a  thing  done  in 
time  before  in  her  life.  Behold  now !  " 

Sure  enough!  before  me,  arranged  on  a  chair,  was  a 
misty  and  visionary  pageant  of  vapory  tulle  and  shimmer 
ing  satin. 

"All  this  is  Ida's  gift.  She  insisted  that  she  alone 
would  dress  me  for  my  wedding,  and  poor  Tullegig  actually 
has  outdone  herself,  and  worked  over  it  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  Good  soul!  she  has  a  heart  behind  all  her  finery, 
and  really  seems  to  take  to  me  especially,  perhaps  because 
I  've  been  such  a  model  of  patience  in  waiting  at  her  doors, 
and  never  scolded  her  for  any  of  her  tricks.  In  fact,  we 
girls  have  been  as  good  as  an  annuity  to  Tullegig;  no  won 
der  she  mourns  over  us.  Do  you  know,  Harry,  the  poor 
old  thing  actually  kissed  me !  " 

"I  'm  not  in  the  least  surprised  at  her  wanting  that  priv 
ilege,"  said  I. 

"Well,  I  felt  rather  tender  toward  her.  I  believe  it's 
Dr.  Johnson  or  somebody  else  who  says  there  are  few 
things,  not  purely  evil,  of  which  we  can  say  without  emo 
tion,  '  This  is  the  last ! '  And  Tullegig  is  by  no  means  a 
pure  evil.  This  is  probably  the  last  of  her  —  with  me. 
But  come,  you  don't  say  what  you  think  of  it.  What  is 
it  like?" 

"Like  a  vision,  like  the  clouds  of  morning,  like  the 
translation  robes  of  saints,  like  impossible  undreamed  mys 
teries  of  bliss.  I  feel  as  if  they  might  all  dissolve  away 
and  be  gone  before  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  shocking,  Harry !  you  must  n't  take  such  indefinite, 
cloudy  views  of  things.  You  must  learn  to  appreciate 
details.  Open  your  eyes,  and  learn  now  that  Tullegig  out 
of  special  love  and  grace  has  adorned  my  dress  with  a  new 
style  of  trimming  that  not  one  of  the  girls  has  ever  had  or 


428  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

seen  before.  It  is  an  original  composition  of  her  own. 
Isn't  it  blissful,  now?" 

"Extremely  blissful,"  said  I  obediently. 

"You  don't  admire,  — you  are  not  half  awake." 

"I  do  admire  —  wonder  —  adore  —  anything  else  that 
you  like  —  but  I  can't  help  feeling  that  it  is  all  a  vision, 
and  that  when  those  cloud  wreaths  float  around  you,  you 
will  dissolve  away  and  be  gone." 

"Poh!  poh!  You  will  find  me  very  visible  and  present, 
as  a  sharp  little  thorn  in  your  side.  Now,  see,  here  are 
the  slippers ! "  and  therewith  she  set  down  before  me  a 
pair  of  pert  little  delicious  white  satin  absurdities,  with 
high  heels  and  tiny  toes,  and  great  bows  glistening  with 
bugles. 

Nothing  fascinates  a  man  like  a  woman's  slipper,  from 
its  utter  incomprehensibility,  its  astonishing  unlikeness  to 
any  article  subserving  the  same  purpose  for  his  own  sex. 
Eva's  slippers  always  seemed  to  have  a  character  of  their 
own,  —  a  prankish  elfin  grace,  and  these  as  they  stood 
there  seemed  instinct  with  life  as  two  white  kittens  just 
ready  for  a  spring. 

I  put  two  fingers  into  each  of  the  little  wretches  and 
made  them  caper  and  dance,  and  we  laughed  gayly. 

"Let  me  see  your  boots,  Harry? " 

"There,"  said  I,  putting  best  foot  forward,  a  brand-new 
pair  bought  for  the  occasion.  "I  am  wearing  them  to  get 
used  to  them,  so  as  to  give  my  whole  mind  to  the  solemn 
services  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  you  enormous  creature!"  she  said;  "you  are  a 
perfect  behemoth.  Fancy  now  my  slippers  peeping  over 
the  table  here  and  wondering  at  your  boots.  I  can 
imagine  the  woman  question  discussed  between  the  slippers 
and  the  boots." 

"And  I  can  fancy,"  said  I,  "the  poor,  stumping,  well- 
meaning  old  boots  being  utterly  perplexed  and  routed  by 


THE   WEDDING  429 

the  elfin  slippers.  What  can  poor  boots  do  1  They  cannot 
follow  them,  cannot  catch  or  control  them,  and  if  they 
come  down  hard  on  them  they  ruin  them  altogether." 

"And  the  good  old  boots  nevertheless,"  said  she,  "are 
worth  forty  pairs  of  slippers.  They  can  stamp  through 
wet  and  mud  and  rain,  and  come  out  afterward  good  as 
new;  and  lift  the  slippers  over  impossible  places.  Dear 
old  patient  long-suffering  boots,  let  the  slippers  respect 
them !  But  come,  Harry,  this  is  the  last  evening  now,  and 
do  you  know  I  Jve  some  anxiety  about  our  little  programme 
to-morrow  1  You  were  not  bred  in  the  Church,  and  you 
never  were  married  before,  and  so  you  ought  to  be  well  up 
in  your  part  beforehand." 

"I  confess,"  said  I,  "I  feel  ignorant  and  a  bit  nervous." 

"Now,  I've  been  a  bridesmaid  no  end  of  times,  and 
seen  all  the  possibles  that  may  happen  under  those  inter 
esting  circumstances,  and  men  are  so  awkward  —  their 
great  feet  are  always  sure  to  step  somewhere  where  they 
should  n't,  and  then  they  thumb  and  fumble  about  the 
ring,  and  their  gloves  always  stick  to  their  hands,  and  it 's 
uncomfortable  generally.  Now  don't,  I  beg  you,  disgrace 
me  by  any  such  enormities." 

"This  is  what  the  slippers  say  to  the  boots,"  said  I. 

"Exactly.  And  here  is  where  the  boots  do  well  to  take 
a  lesson  of  the  slippers.  They  are  '  on  their  native  heath, ' 
here." 

"Well,  then,"  said  I,  "get  down  the  Prayer-Book  and 
teach  me  my  proprieties.  I  will  learn  my  lesson  thor 
oughly." 

"Well,  now,  we  have  the  thing  all  arranged  for  to 
morrow;  the  carriages  are  to  be  here  at  ten;  ceremony  at 
eleven.  The  procession  will  form  at  the  church  door; 
first,  Jim  Fellows  and  Alice,  then  you  and  mamma,  then 
papa  and  me,  and  when  we  meet  at  the  altar  be  sure  to 
mind  where  you  step,  and  don't  tread  on  my  veil  or  any 


430  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

of  my  tulle  clouds,  because,  though  it  may  look  like  vapor, 
you  can't  very  well  set  your  foot  through  it;  and  be  sure 
you  have  a  well-disciplined  glove  that  you  can  slip  off 
without  a  fuss;  and  have  the  ring  just  where  you  can  lay 
your  hand  on  it.  And  now  let 's  read  over  the  service  and 
responses  and  all  that." 

We  went  through  them  creditably  till  Eva,  putting  her 
finger  on  one  word,  looked  me  straight  in  the  eye. 

"  Obey,  Harry,  isn't  that  a  droll  word  between  you  and 
me1?  I  can't  conceive  of  it.  Now  up  to  this  time  you 
have  always  obeyed  me." 

"And  'turn  about  is  fair  play,'  the  proverb  says,"  said 
I;  "you  see,  Eva,  since  Adam  took  the  apple  from  Eve 
men  have  obeyed  women  nem.  con.  —  there  was  no  need 
of  putting  the  *  obey  '  into  their  part.  The  only  puzzle  is 
how  to  constrain  the  subtle,  imponderable,  ethereal  essence 
of  womanhood  under  some  law;  so  the  obey  is  our  helpless 
attempt. " 

"But  now,  really  and  truly,  Harry,  I  want  to  talk  seri 
ously  about  this.  The  girls  are  so  foolish!  Jane  Sey 
mour  said  she  said  '  be  gay  '  instead  of  '  obey  '  —  and  Maria 
Bivington  said  she  didn't  say  it  at  all.  But  really  and 
truly,  that  is  God's  altar  —  and  it  is  a  religious  service,  and 
if  I  go  there  at  all,  I  must  understand  what  I  mean,  and 
say  it  from  my  heart." 

"My  dear,  if  you  have  any  hesitancy  you  know  that 
you  can  leave  it  out.  In  various  modern  wedding  services 
it  is  often  omitted.  We  could  easily  avoid  it." 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Harry!  Marry  out  of  the  Church! 
What  are  you  thinking  of  1  Not  I,  indeed!  I  shouldn't 
think  myself  really  married." 

"Well,  then,  my  princess,  it  is  your  own  affair.  If 
you  choose  to  promise  to  obey  me,  I  can  only  be  grateful 
for  the  honor;  if  it  gives  any  power,  it  is  of  your  giving, 
not  my  seeking." 


THE   WEDDING  431 

"  But  what  does  a  woman  promise  when  she  promises  at 
the  altar  to  obey  ?  " 

"Well,  evidently,  she  promises  to  obey  her  husband  in 
every  case  where  he  commands  and  a  higher  duty  to  God 
does  not  forbid." 

"  But  does  this  mean  that  all  through  life  in  every  case 
where  there  arises  a  difference  of  opinion  or  taste  between 
a  husband  and  wife  she  is  to  give  up  to  him  1 " 

"If,"  said  I,  "she  has  been  so  unwise  as  to  make  this 
promise  to  a  man  without  common  sense  or  gentlemanly 
honor,  who  chooses  to  have  his  own  will  prevail  in  all  cases 
of  differences  of  taste,  I  don't  see  but  she  must." 

"  But  between  people  like  you  and  me,  Harry  1 " 

"Between  people  like  you  and  me,  darling,  I  can't  see 
that  the  word  can  make  any  earthly  difference.  There 
can  be  no  obeying  where  there  never  is  any  commanding, 
and  as  to  commanding  you  I  should  as  soon  think  of  com 
manding  the  sun  and  moon." 

"Well;  but  you  know  we  shall  not  always  think  alike 
or  want  the  same  thing." 

"  Then  we  will  talk  matters  over,  and  the  one  that  gives 
the  best  reasons  shall  prevail.  You  and  I  will  be  like  any 
other  two  dear  friends  who  agree  to  carry  on  any  enterprise 
together:  we  shall  discuss  matters,  and  sometimes  one  and 
sometimes  the  other  will  prevail." 

"But,  Harry,  this  matter  puzzles  me.  Why  is  there  a 
command  in  the  Bible  that  wives  should  always  obey1? 
Very  many  times  in  domestic  affairs,  certainly,  the  woman 
knows  the  most  and  has  altogether  the  best  judgment." 

"It  appears  to  me  that  it  is  one  of  those  very  general 
precepts  that  require  to  be  largely  interpreted  by  common 
sense.  Taking  the  whole  race  of  man  together,  for  all 
stages  of  society  and  all  degrees  of  development,  I  suppose 
it  is  the  safest  general  direction  for  the  weaker  party.  In 
low  stages  of  society  where  brute  force  rules,  man  has 


432  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

woman  wholly  in  his  power,  and  she  can  win  peace  and 
protection  only  by  submission.  But  where  society  rises 
into  those  higher  forms  where  husbands  and  wives  are  in 
telligent  companions  and  equals,  the  direction  does  no 
harm,  because  it  confers  a  prerogative  that  no  cultivated 
man  would  think  of  asserting  any  more  than  he  would 
think  of  using  his  superior  physical  strength  to  enforce  it. " 

"I  suppose,"  said  Eva,  "it  is  just  like  the  command 
that  children  should  obey  parents.  When  children  are 
grown  up  and  married  and  settled,  parents  never  think 
of  it." 

"Precisely,"  said  I,  "and  you  and  I  are  the  grown-up 
children  of  the  Christian  era  —  all  that  talk  of  obedience  is 
the  old  calyx  of  the  perfect  flower  of  love  —  '  when  that 
which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that  which  is  in  part  shall 
be  done  away. '  ' 

"  So,  then,  it  appears  you  and  I  shall  have  a  free  field 
of  discussion,  Harry,  and  maybe  I  shall  croquet  your  ball 
off  the  ground  sometimes,  as  I  did  once  before,  you  know." 

"I  dare  say  you  will.  There  was  an  incipient  spice  of 
matrimonial  virulence,  my  fair  Eva,  in  the  way  you  played 
that  game !  In  fact,  I  began  to  hope  I  was  not  indifferent 
to  you  from  the  zeal  with  which  you  pursued  and  routed 
me  on  that  occasion." 

"I  must  confess  it  did  my  heart  good  to  set  your  ball 
spinning,  —  and  that  puts  me  in  mind.  I  have  the  great 
est  piece  of  news  to  tell  you.  If  you  '11  believe  me,  Syd 
ney  and  Sophie  are  engaged  already !  She  came  here 
this  morning  with  her  present,  this  lovely  amethyst  cross 
—  and  it  seems  funny  to  me,  but  she  is  just  as  dead  in 
love  with  Sydney  as  she  can  be,  and  do  you  know  he  is  so 
delighted  with  the  compliment  that  he  has  informed  her 
that  he  has  made  the  discovery  that  he  never  was  in  love 
before." 

"  The  scamp !  what  does  he  mean  1  "  said  I. 


THE   WEDDING  433 

"Oh,  he  said  that  little  witch  Eva  Van  Arsdel  had  daz 
zled  him  —  and  he  had  really  supposed  himself  in  love,  but 
that  she  never  had  'excited  the  profound,'  etc.,  etc.,  he 
feels  for  Sophie." 

"So  '  all 's  well  that  ends  well,'  "  said  I. 

"And  to  show  his  entire  pacification  toward  me,"  said 
Eva,  "he  has  sent  me  this  whole  set  of  mantel  bronzes  — 
clock,  vases,  candlesticks,  match-box,  and  all.  Are  n't  they 
superb  ? " 

"Magnificent!"  said  I.  "What  an  air  they  wrill  give 
our  room!  On  the  whole,  dear,  I  think  rejected  lovers 
are  not  so  bad  an  article." 

"Well,  here,  I  must  show  you  Bolton's  present,  which 
came  in  this  afternoon,"  with  which  she  led  me  to  a  pair 
of  elegantly  carved  book-racks  enriched  with  the  complete 
works  of  Longfellow,  Whittier,  Lowell,  Holmes,  and  Haw 
thorne.  They  wrere  elegantly  gotten  up  in  a  uniform  style 
of  binding. 

"Isn't  that  lovely?"  said  she,  "and  so  thoughtful! 
For  how  many  happy  hours  he  has  provided  here !  " 

"  Good  fellow ! "  said  I,  feeling  the  tears  start  in  my 
eyes.  "Eva,  if  there  is  a  mortal  absolutely  without  sel 
fishness,  it  is  Bolton." 

"Oh,  Harry,  why  couldn't  he  marry  and  be  as  happy 
as  we  are  1 " 

"Perhaps  some  day  he  may,"  said  I,  "but,  dear  me! 
who  gave  that  comical  bronze  inkstand?  It 's  enough  to 
make  one  laugh  to  look  at  it." 

"Don't  you  know  at  once?  Why,  that  's  Jim  Fellows's 
present.  Is  n't  it  just  like  him  ?  " 

"I  might  have  known  it  was  Jim,"  said  I,  "it 's  so  de 
cidedly  frisky." 

"Well,  really,  Harry,  do  you  know  that  I  am  in  deadly 
fear  that  that  wicked  Jim  will  catch  my  eye  to-morrow  in 
the  ceremony  or  do  something  to  set  me  off,  and  I  'm 


434  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

always  perfectly  hysterical  when  I  'm  excited,  and  if  I  look 
his  way  there  '11  be  no  hope  for  me.'7 

"We  must  trust  to  Providence,"  said  I;  "if  I  should 
say  a  word  of  remonstrance  it  would  make  it  ten  times 
worse.  The  creature  is  possessed  of  a  frisky  spirit  and 
can't  help  it." 

"Alice  was  lecturing  him  about  it  last  night,  and  the 
only  result  was  we  nearly  killed  ourselves  laughing.  After 
all,  Harry,  who  can  help  liking  Jim  1  Since  our  troubles 
he  has  been  the  kindest  of  mortals;  so  really  delicate 
and  thoughtful  in  his  attentions.  It  was  something  I 
should  n't  have  expected  of  him.  Harry,  what  do  you 
think  1  Should  you  want  Alice  to  like  him,  supposing  you 
knew  that  he  would  like  her  1  Is  there  stability  enough  in 
him  1  » 

"Jim  is  a  queer  fellow,7'  said  I.  "On  a  slight  view  he 
looks  a  mere  bundle  of  comicalities  and  caprices,  and  he 
takes  a  singular  delight  in  shocking  respectable  prejudices 
and  making  himself  out  worse  than  he  is,  or  ever  thinks  of 
being.  But  after  all,  as  young  men  go,  Jim  is  quite  free 
from  bad  habits.  He  does  not  drink,  and  he  doesn't 
even  smoke.  He  is  the  most  faithful,  assiduous  worker  in 
his  line  of  work  among  the  newspaper  men  of  New  York. 
He  is  a  good  son,  a  kind  brother.77 

"But,  somehow,  he  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  have  real 
deep  firm  principle.77 

"Jim  is  a  child  of  modern  New  York  —  an  eleve  of  her 
school.  A  good  wife  and  a  good  home,  with  good  friends, 
might  do  much  for  him,  but  he  will  always  be  one  that 
will  act  more  from  kindly  impulses  than  from  principle. 
He  will  be  very  apt  to  go  as  his  friends  go.'7 

"You  know,"  she  said,  "in  old  times,  when  Alice  was 
in  full  career,  I  never  thought  of  anything  serious  as  pos 
sible.  It  is  only  since  our  trouble  and  his  great  kindness 
to  us  that  I  have  thought  of  the  thing  as  at  all  likely. " 


THE   WEDDING  435 

"We  may  as  well  leave  it  to  the  good  powers,"  said  I; 
"we  can't  do  much  to  help  or  hinder,  only,  if  they  should 
come  together  I  shall  be  glad  for  Jim's  sake,  for  I  love 
him.  And  now,  my  dear  Eva,  have  you  any  more  orders, 
counsels,  or  commands  for  the  fateful  to-morrow  ?  "  said 
I;  "for  it  waxes  late,  and  you  ought  to  get  a  beauty  sleep 
to-night." 

"Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  I  'm  not  going  to  wear  either 
my  new  traveling  dress  or  hat,  or  anything  to  mark  me  out 
as  a  bride;  and  look  here,  Harry,  you  must  try  and  study 
the  old  staid  married  man's  demeanor.  Don't  let 's  dis 
grace  ourselves  by  being  discovered  at  once." 

"Shall  I  turn  my  back  on  you  and  read  the  newspaper? 
I  observe  that  some  married  men  do  that." 

"Yes,  and  if  you  could  conjugally  wipe  your  boots  on 
my  dress,  it  would  have  an  extremely  old  married  effect. 
You  can  read  the  paper  first,  and  then  pass  it  to  me  —  that 
is  another  delicate  little  point." 

"I  'in  afraid  that  in  your  zeal  you  will  drive  me  to  ex 
cesses  of  boorishness  that  will  overshoot  the  mark,"  said  I. 
"You  wouldn't  want  me  to  be  so  negligent  of  '  that  pretty 
girl '  that  some  other  gentleman  would  feel  a  disposition 
to  befriend  her?  " 

"  Well,  dear,  but  there 's  a  happy  medium.  We  can 
appear  like  two  relatives  traveling  together." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  I,  "after  all,  we  shall  be  detected; 
but  if  we  are,  we  shall  be  in  good  company.  Our  first 
day's  journey  lies  in  the  regular  bridal  route,  and  I  expect 
that  every  third  or  fourth  seat  will  show  an  enraptured 
pair,  of  whom  we  can  take  lessons  —  after  all,  dear,  you 
know  there  is  no  sin  in  being  just  married." 

"Xo,  only  in  acting  silly  about  it,  as  I  hope  we  sha'n't. 
I  want  us  to  be  models  of  rationality  and  decorum." 

Here  the  clock  striking  twelve  warned  me  that  the  last 
day  of  Eva  Van  Arsdel's  life  was  numbered. 


CHAPTER   XLII 

BOLTON 

I  RETURNED  to  my  room  past  midnight,  excited  and 
wakeful.  Seeing  a  light  through  the  crack  of  Bolton's 
door,  I  went  up  and  knocked  and  was  bidden  to  enter.  I 
found  him  seated  under  his  study-lamp,  looking  over  a 
portfolio  of  papers,  some  of  which  lay  strewed  around  him 
open.  I  observed  at  a  glance  that  the  handwriting  was 
that  of  Caroline.  He  looked  at  me.  Our  eyes  met  —  a 
slight  flush  rose  in  his  cheeks  as  he  said,  "I  have  been 
looking  over  a  collection  of  writings  belonging  to  your 
cousin,  the  fruits  of  the  solitary  years  of  her  secluded 
life." 

"And  you  find  them  "  — 

"A  literary  treasure,"  he  said,  with  emphasis.  "Yes," 
he  added,  "what  there  is  here  will,  I  think,  give  her  repu 
tation  and  established  position,  and  a  command  of  prices 
which  will  enable  her  to  fulfill  her  long-cherished  intention 
of  studying  in  Paris.  She  will  go  out  with  Miss  Ida  Van 
Arsdel  soon  after  you  are  gone.  I  can  assure  her  the 
means,  and  I  have  already  procured  her  the  situation  of 
correspondent  to  the  '  Chronicle, '  with  very  liberal  terms. 
So,  you  see,  her  way  is  all  plain." 

"But  what  shall  we  do  with  the  '  Ladies  Cabinet '  ?  " 

"Oh,  we'll  manage  it  among  us.  Caroline  will  write 
for  it  occasionally." 

"  Caroline  !  "  There  was  a  great  deal  in  the  manner  in 
which  Bolton  spoke  that  name.  It  was  full  of  suppressed 
feeling.  Some  can  express  as  much  intensity  of  devotion 


BOLTON  437 

by  the  mere  utterance  of  a  name  as  others  by  the  most 
ardent  protestations. 

I  was  in  the  mood  that  holds  every  young  man  on  the 
eve  of  a  happy  marriage.  I  could  conceive  of  no  bliss  out 
side  of  that;  and  there  was  in  the  sound  of  Bolton's  voice, 
as  he  spoke,  a  vibration  of  an  intense  pain  which  distressed 
me. 

"Bolton,"  I  said  imploringly,  "why  will  you  sacrifice 
yourself  and  her  ?  She  loves  you  —  you  love  her.  Why 
not  another  marriage  —  another  home  1  " 

His  face  quivered  a  moment,  and  then  settled  firmly. 
He  smiled. 

"Hal,  my  boy,'7  he  said,  "you  naturally  see  nothing  for 
man  and  woman  but  marriage  just  now.  But  it  is  not 
every  man  and  woman  who  love  each  other  who  have  the 
right  to  marry.  She  does  love  me,"  he  added,  with  a 
deep,  inward  breathing.  "  She  is  capable  of  all  that  mag 
nanimity,  all  that  generous  self-sacrifice  that  make  women 
such  angels  to  us  "  — 

"Then,  oh!  why  not"  —  began  I  eagerly. 

"Because  I  LOVE  her  dearly,  devotedly,  I  will  not  ac 
cept  such  a  sacrifice.  I  will  not  risk  her  wrecking  her  life 
on  me.  The  pain  she  feels  now  in  leaving  me  will  soon 
die  out  in  the  enthusiasm  of  a  career.  Yes,  the  day  is 
now  come,  thank  God,  when  a  woman  as  well  as  a  man 
can  have  some  other  career  besides  that  of  the  heart.  Let 
her  study  her  profession,  expand  her  mind,  broaden  her 
powers  —  become  all  that  she  can  be.  It  will  not  impede 
her  course  to  remember  that  there  is  in  the  world  one  friend 
who  will  always  love  her  above  all  things;  and  the  know 
ledge  that  she  loves  me  will  save  me  —  if  I  am  salvable. " 

"  '  If  ' !     Oh,  Bolton,  my  brother !  why  do  you  say  '  if  '  ?  " 

"Because  the  danger  is  one  I  cannot  comprehend  and 
provide  for.  It  is  like  that  of  sudden  insanity.  The 
curse  may  never  return  —  pray  God  it  may  not  —  but  if  it 
should,  at  least  I  shall  wreck  no  other  heart." 


438  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"  Bolton,  can  you  say  so  if  there  is  one  that  loves  you  1 " 

"Not  as  a  wife  would  love.  Her  whole  being  and  des 
tiny  are  not  intertwined  with  mine  as  marriage  would 
unite  them.  Besides,  if  there  is  somewhere  hid  away  in 
my  brain  and  blood  the  seed  of  this  fatal  mania,  shall  I 
risk  transmitting  them  to  a  helpless  child  1  Shall  I  expose 
such  a  woman  to  the  danger  of  suffering  over  again,  as  a 
mother,  the  anguish  she  must  suffer  as  a  wife  1  —  the  fears, 
the  anxieties,  the  disappointment,  the  wearing,  wasting 
pain?  As  God  is  my  Judge,  I  will  not  make  another 
woman  suffer  what  my  mother  has." 

In  all  my  intercourse  with  Bolton  I  never  heard  him 
speak  of  his  mother  before,  and  he  spoke  now  with  intense 
vehemence;  his  voice  vibrated  and  quivered  with  emotion. 
In  a  few  moments,  however,  he  resumed  his  habitual  self- 
possession. 

"No,  Hal,"  he  said  cheerily,  "build  no  air-castles  for 
me.  I  shall  do  well  enough ;  you  and  yours  will  be  enough 
to  occupy  me.  And  now  show  me  first  what  I  am  to  do 
for  you  while  you  are  gone.  Jim  and  I  will  trudge  to  all 
impossible  places,  to  look  you  up  that  little  house  with  a 
good  many  large  rooms  in  it,  that  all  young  housekeepers 
are  in  search  of.  I  will  cut  out  advertisements  and  look 
over  nice  places  and  let  you  know  the  result;  and  I'll  see 
to  the  proof-sheets  of  your  articles  for  the  '  Milky  Way, ' 
and  write  your  contributions  to  the  *  Democracy. '  If  you 
want  to  be  our  special  correspondent  from  the  Garden  of 
Eden,  why  you  may  send  us  back  letters  on  your  trip. 
You  can  tell  us  if  the  *  gold  of  that  land  '  is  still  '  good, ' 
and  if  there  are  there  still  '  bdellium  and  oynx  stone, '  as 
there  were  in  the  Bible  days." 

"Thank  you,"  said  I.  "I  shall  send  you  letters,  but 
hardly  of  a  kind  to  appear  in  the  '  Democracy. '  ' 

"What  with  your  engagements  on  that  sheet,  and  what 
I  shall  have  ready  to  pile  in  on  you  by  the  time  you  come 


BOLTON  439 

back,  you  will  have  little  time  for  philandering  after  your 
return.  So  take  it  out  now  and  get  all  the  honey  there  is 
in  this  next  moon.  For  me,  I  have  my  domestic  joys. 
Finnette  has  presented  me  with  a  charming  batch  of  kittens. 
Look  here." 

And  sure  enough,  snugly  ensconced  in  a  large,  well- 
padded  basket  by  the  fire  lay  madam  asleep,  with  four 
downy  little  minikins  snuggled  to  her.  Bolton  took  the 
lamp  and  kneeled  down  to  show  them,  with  the  most  ab 
sorbed  intent.  Stumpy  came  and  stood  by  the  basket, 
wagging  what  was  left  of  his  poor  tail,  and  looking  as  if 
he  had  some  earnest  responsibility  in  the  case. 

As  to  Finnette,  she  opened  her  yellow  eyes,  sleepily 
stretched  out  her  claws,  purred  and  rolled  over,  as  if  in 
excess  of  pride  and  joy. 

"Who  says  there  isn't  happiness  on  earth?"  said  Bol 
ton.  "A  cat  is  a  happiness-producing  machine.  Hal,  I 
shall  save  one  of  those  kittens  to  set  you  up  with.  No 
family  is  complete  without  a  cat.  I  shall  take  one  in  train 
ing  for  you.  You  should  have  a  dog,  too;  but  I  can't 
spare  Stumpy.  I  don't  believe  there  is  anything  like 
him  in  the  world." 

"I  verily  believe  you,"  said  I. 

"Stumpy's  beauty  is  so  entirely  moral  that  I  fear  it 
never  would  be  popularly  appreciated;  besides,  poor  brute, 
he  is  quite  capable  of  dying  for  love  of  me  if  I  gave  him 
up.  That 's  an  accomplishment  few  men  attain  to.  Well, 
Hal,  go  to  bed  now,  or  you  '11  be  too  sleepy  to  behave  re 
spectably  to-morrow.  God  bless  you !  " 


CHAPTEE   XLIII 

THE    WEDDING    JOURNEY 

A  WEDDING  journey,  — what  is  it?  A  tour  to  all  the 
most  expensive  and  fashionable  hotels  and  watering-places. 
The  care  of  Saratoga  trunks  and  bonnet-boxes.  The  dis 
play  of  a  fashionable  wardrobe  made  purposely  for  this 
object,  and  affording  three  altogether  new  and  different 
toilettes  a  day. 

Very  well. 

Doubtless  all  this  may  coexist  with  true  love ;  and  true  lov 
ers,  many  and  ardent,  have  been  this  round,  and  may  again, 
and  have  been  and  may  be  none  the  worse  for  it.  For  where 
true  love  is,  it  is  not  much  matter  whatever  else  is  or  is  not. 

But  when  the  Saratoga  trunks,  the  three  dresses  a  day, 
and  the  display  of  them  to  Mrs.  Grundy,  have  been  the 
substitute  for  love  and  one  of  the  impelling  motives  to 
marriage,  or  when  they  absorb  all  those  means  and  re 
sources  on  which  domestic  comfort  and  peace  should  be 
built  during  the  first  years  of  married  life,  then  they  are 
simply  in  Scriptural  phrase  "the  abomination  of  desolation, 
standing  where  it  ought  not." 

Yet  apart  from  that  there  is  to  me  a  violation  of  the 
essential  sacredness  of  the  holiest  portion  of  mortal  life  in 
exposing  it  to  the  glare  of  every-day  observation.  It  seems 
as  if  there  were  something  so  wonderful  and  sacred  in  that 
union  by  which  man  and  woman,  forsaking  all  others, 
cleave  to  each  other,  that  its  inception  requires  quiet  soli 
tude,  the  withdrawal  from  the  commonplace  and  bustling 
ways  of  ordinary  life. 


THE   WEDDING   JOURNEY  441 

The  two,  more  to  each  other  than  all  the  world  besides, 
are  best  left  to  the  companionship  of  nature.  Carpets  of 
moss  are  better  than  the  most  elaborate  of  fashionable  hotel 
furniture ;  birds  and  squirrels  are  more  suitable  companions 
than  men  and  women. 

Our  wedding  was  a  success  so  far  as  cheerfulness  and 
enjoyment  were  concerned.  The  church  had  been  gar 
landed  and  made  fair  and  sweet  by  the  floral  tributes  of 
many  friendly  hands.  Jim  Fellows  and  one  or  two  of  the 
other  acquaintances  of  the  family  had  exerted  themselves 
to  produce  a  very  pretty  effect.  The  wedding  party  was 
one  of  relatives  and  near  friends  only,  without  show  or 
parade,  but  with  a  great  deal  of  good  taste.  There  was 
the  usual  amount  of  weeping  among  the  elderly  female  rela 
tives,  particularly  on  the  part  of  Aunt  Maria,  who  insisted 
on  maintaining  a  purely  sepulchral  view  of  our  prospects 
in  life. 

Ever  since  the  failure  of  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  Aunt  Maria 
had  worn  this  aspect,  and  seemed  to  consider  all  demon 
strations  of  lightness  of  heart  and  cheerfulness  on  the  part 
of  the  family  as  unsuitable  trifling  with  a  dreadful  dispen 
sation.  But  the  presence  of  this  funereal  influence  could 
not  destroy  the  gayety  of  the  younger  members,  and  Jim, 
Fellows  seemed  to  exert  himself  particularly  to  whip  up 
such  a  froth  and  foam  of  merriment  and  jollity  as  caused 
the  day  to  be  remembered  as  one  of  the  gayest  in  our 
annals. 

We  had  but  one  day's  ride  in  the  cars  to  bring  us  up  to 
the  old  simple  stage  route  of  the  mountain  country.  Dur 
ing  this  said  day  in  the  cars,  under  the  tutelage  of  my 
Empress,  I  was  made  to  behave  myself  with  the  grimmest 
and  most  stately  reserve  of  manner.  Scarcely  was  I  allowed 
the  same  seat  with  her,  and  my  conversation  with  her,  so 
far  as  could  be  observed,  was  confined  to  the  most  unim- 
passioned  and  didactic  topics. 


442  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

The  reason  for  this  appeared  to  be  that  having  married 
in  the  very  matrimonial  month  of  June,  and  our  track 
lying  along  one  of  the  great  routes  of  fashionable  travel, 
we  were  beset  behind  and  before  by  enraptured  couples, 
whose  amiable  artlessness  in  the  display  of  their  emotions 
appeared  particularly  shocking  to  her  taste.  On  the  row 
of  seats  in  front  of  us  could  be  seen  now  a  masculine  head 
lolling  confidentially  on  a  feminine  shoulder,  and  again  in 
the  next  seat  an  evident  bridal  bonnet  leaning  on  the 
bosom  of  the  beloved  waistcoat  of  its  choice  in  sweet 
security. 

"It  is  perfectly  disgusting  and  disagreeable,"  she  said 
in  my  ear. 

"My  dear,'7  I  replied,  "I  don't  see  as  we  can  do  any 
thing  about  it." 

"I  don't  see  —  I  cannot  imagine  how  people  can  make 
such  a  show  of  themselves,"  she  said. 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  I,  "we  are  all  among  the  par 
venus  of  married  life.  It  is  n't  everybody  that  knows  how 
to  behave  as  if  he  had  always  been  rich  —  let  us  comfort 
ourselves  with  reflections  on  our  own  superiority." 

The  close  of  the  day  brought  us,  however,  to  the  verge 
of  the  mountain  region  where  railroads  cease  and  stages 
begin,  —  the  beautiful  country,  of  hard,  flinty,  rocky  roads, 
of  pines  and  evergreens,  of  silvery  cascades  and  brooks  of 
melted  crystal,  and  of  a  society  as  yet  homely  and  heart- 
some,  and  with  a  certain  degree  of  sylvan  innocence.  At 
once  we  seemed  to  have  left  the  artificial  world  behind  us 
—  the  world  of  observers  and  observed.  We  sat  together 
on  the  top  of  the  stage,  and  sailed  like  two  birds  of  the  air 
through  the  tree-tops  of  the  forest,  looking  down  into  all 
the  charming  secrets  of  woodland  ways  as  we  went  on,  and 
feeling  ourselves  delivered  from  all  the  spells  and  incanta 
tions  of  artificial  life.  We  might  have  been  two  squirrels, 
or  a  pair  of  robins,  or  bluebirds.  We  ceased  to  think  how 


THE  WEDDING  JOURNEY  443 

we  appeared.  We  forgot  that  there  were  an  outer  world 
and  spectators,  and  felt  ourselves  taken  in  and  made  at 
home  in  the  wide  hospitality  of  nature.  Highland,  where 
my  mother  lived,  was  just  within  a  day's  ride  of  the  finest 
part  of  the  White  Mountains.  The  close  of  a  charming 
leisurely  drive  upward  brought  us  at  night  to  her  home, 
and  I  saw  her  sweet  face  of  welcome  at  the  door  to  meet 
us,  and  gave  her  new  daughter  to  her  arms  with  confident 
pride. 

The  village  was  so  calm,  and  still,  and  unchanged! 
The  old  church  where  my  father  had  preached,  the  houses 
where  still  lived  the  people  I  had  known  from  a  boy,  the 
old  store,  the  tavern  with  its  creaking  sign-post,  and,  best 
of  all,  Uncle  Jacob's  house,  with  its  recesses  and  corners 
full  of  books,  its  quiet  rooms  full  of  comfort,  its  traditions 
of  hospitality,  and  the  deep  sense  of  calm  and  rest  that 
seemed  ever  brooding  there.  This  was  a  paradise  where  I 
could  bring  my  Eve  for  rest  and  for  refuge. 

What  charming  days  went  over  our  heads  there !  We 
rambled  like  two  school-children,  hand  in  hand,  over  all 
the  haunts  of  my  boyhood.  Where  I  and  my  little  child- 
wife  had  gathered  golden-hearted  lilies  and  strawberries, 
we  gathered  them  again.  The  same  bobolink  seemed  to 
sit  on  the  top  twig  of  the  old  apple-tree  in  the  corner  of 
the  meadow  and  say,  "  Chack,  chack,  chack ! "  as  he  said 
it  when  Susie  and  I  used  to  sit  with  the  meadow  grass  over 
our  heads  to  watch  him  while  he  poured  down  on  us  show 
ers  of  musical  snowdrops.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  gone  back 
to  boyhood  again,  so  much  did  my  inseparable  companion 
recall  to  me  the  child- wife  of  my  early  days.  We  were 
both  such  perfect  children,  living  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
bright  present,  without  a  care  or  a  fear  for  the  future. 

Every  day  when  we  returned  from  our  rambles  and  ex 
cursions  the  benignant  face  of  my  mother  shone  down  on 
us  with  fullness  of  appreciation  and  joy  in  our  joy;  while 


444  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Uncle  Jacob,  still  dry,  quizzical,  and  active  as  ever,  re 
garded  us  with  an  undisguised  complacency. 

"You  've  done  the  right  thing  now,  Harry,"  he  said  to 
me.  "She  '11  do.  You  're  a  lucky  boy  to  get  such  a  one, 
even  though  she  is  a  city  girl." 

Eva,  after  a  little  experience  in  mountain  climbing,  pro 
ceeded  to  equip  herself  for  it  with  feminine  skill.  Our 
village  store  supplied  her  with  material  out  of  which  with 
wonderful  quickness  she  constructed  what  she  called  a 
mountain  suit,  somewhat  of  the  bloomer  order,  but  to  which 
she  contrived  to  impart  a  sort  of  air  of  dapper  grace  and 
fitness.  And  once  arrayed  in  this  she  climbed  with  me  to 
the  most  impossible  places,  and  we  investigated  the  inner 
most  mysteries  of  rock,  forest,  and  cavern. 

My  uncle  lent  me  his  horse  and  carriage,  and  with  a 
luncheon- basket  well  stored  by  my  mother's  providing 
care,  we  went  on  a  tour  of  exploration  of  two  or  three 
days  into  the  mountains,  in  the  course  of  which  we  made 
ourselves  familiar  in  a  leisurely  manner  with  some  of  the 
finest  scenery. 

The  mutual  acquaintance  that  comes  to  companions  in 
this  solitude  and  face-to-face  communion  with  nature  is 
deeper  and  more  radical  than  can  come  when  surrounded 
by  the  factitious  circumstances  of  society.  When  the  whole 
artificial  world  is  withdrawn,  and  far  out  of  sight,  when 
we  are  surrounded  with  the  pure  and  beautiful  mysteries 
of  nature,  the  very  best  and  most  genuine  part  of  us  comes 
to  the  surface,  we  know  each  other  by  the  communion  of 
our  very  highest  faculties. 

When  Eva  and  I  found  ourselves  alone  together  in  the 
heart  of  some  primeval  forest,  where  the  foot  sank  ankle- 
deep  in  a  carpet  of  more  exquisite  fabric  than  any  loom  of 
mortal  workmanship  could  create,  where  the  old  fallen 
trunks  of  trees  were  all  overgrown  with  this  exquisite 
mossy  tapestry,  and  all  around  us  was  a  perfect  broidery 


THE   WEDDING  JOURNEY  445 

and  inlay  of  flower  and  leaf,  while  birds  called  to  us  over 
head,  down  through  the  flickering  shadows  of  the  pine 
boughs,  we  felt  ourselves  out  of  the  world  and  in  paradise, 
and  able  to  look  back  from  its  green  depths  with  a  dispas 
sionate  judgment  on  the  life  we  had  left. 

Then,  the  venture  we  had  made  in  striking  hands  with 
each  other  to  live,  not  for  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this 
world,  but  for  the  true  realities  of  the  heart,  seemed  to  us 
the  highest  reason.  Nature  smiled  on  it.  Every  genuine 
green  thing,  every  spicy  fragrant  bush  and  tree,  every 
warbling  bird,  true  to  the  laws  of  its  nature,  seemed  to  say 
to  us,  "Well  done." 

"  I  suppose, "  said  Eva,  as  we  sat  in  one  of  these  moun 
tain  recesses  whence  we  could  gain  a  view  of  the  little  sil 
very  cascade, —  "I  suppose  that  there  are  a  great  many  peo 
ple  who  look  on  me  as  a  proper  subject  of  pity.  My  father 
has  failed.  I  have  married  a  man  with  no  fortune,  except 
what  he  has  in  himself.  We  can't  afford  to  spend  our 
honeymoon  at  Niagara,  Saratoga,  and  the  rest  of  the  show 
places;  and  we  don't  contemplate  either  going  to  parties  or 
giving  them  when  we  go  back  to  New  York." 

"Poor,  poor  Eva  Van  Arsdel!  how  art  thou  fallen!" 
said  I. 

"Poor  Aunt  Maria!"  said  Eva.  "I  honestly  and  truly 
am  sorry  for  her.  She  really  loves  me  in  her  way  —  the 
way  most  people  love  you,  which  is  to  want  you  to  be 
happy  in  doing  as  they  please.  Her  heart  was  set  on  my 
making  an  astoundingly  rich  match,  and  having  a  wedding 
that  should  eclipse  all  former  weddings,  and  then  becoming 
a  leader  of  fashionable  society ;  and  to  have  me  fail  of  all 
this  is  a  dreadful  catastrophe.  I  want  somehow  to  com 
fort  her  and  make  up  with  her,  but  she  can't  forgive  me. 
She  kissed  me  at  last  with  a  stern  and  warning  air  that 
seemed  to  say,  '  Well,  if  you  will  go  to  destruction,  I 
can't  help  it.'" 


446  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Perhaps  when  she  sees  how  happy  we  are  she  will  get 
over  it,7'  said  I. 

"No,  I  fear  not.  Aunt  Maria  can't  conceive  of  any 
body's  being  happy  that  has  to  begin  life  with  an  ingrain 
carpet  on  the  floor.  She  would  think  it  a  positive  indeco 
rum  to  be  happy  under  such  circumstances  —  a  want  of  a 
proper  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things.  Now,  I  propose  to 
be  very  happy  under  precisely  those  circumstances,  and  to 
try  to  make  you  so;  consequently  you  see  I  shall  offend 
her  moral  sense  continuously,  and,  as  I  said,  I  do  wish  it 
weren't  so,  because  I  love  Aunt  Maria,  and  am  sorry  I 
can't  please  her." 

"I  suppose,"  said  I,  "there  is  no  making  her  compre 
hend  the  resources  we  have  in  each  other  —  our  love  of 
just  this  bright,  free,  natural  life?  " 

"Oh  dear,  no!  All  Aunt  Maria's  idea  of  visiting  the 
mountains  would  be  having  rooms  at  the  Profile  House  in 
the  height  of  the  season,  and  gazing  in  full  dress  at  the 
mountains  from  the  verandas.  I  don't  think  she  really 
cares  enough  for  anything  here  to  risk  wetting  her  feet  for 
it.  I  dare  say  the  poor  dear  soul  is  lying  awake  nights 
now,  lamenting  over  my  loss  of  what  I  don't  care  for,  arid 
racking  her  brains  how  we  may  contrive  to  patch  up  a 
little  decent  gentility." 

"And  you  are  as  free  and  gay  as  an  oriole ! " 

"  Certainly  I  am.  All  I  wish  is  that  we  could  live  in 
one  of  these  little  mountain  towns,  just  as  your  mother 
and  uncle  do.  I  love  the  hearty,  simple  society  here." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "as  we  cannot,  we  can  only  try  to  make 
a  home  in  New  York  as  simple-hearted,  and  kindly,  and 
unworldly  as  if  wre  lived  here." 

"Yes,  and  we  can  do  that,"  said  she.  "You  have  only 
to  resolve  to  be  free,  and  you  are  free.  Now,  that  is  the 
beauty  of  our  being  married.  Alone,  we  are  parts  of  other 
families,  drawn  along  with  them  —  entrained,  as  the 


THE   WEDDING   JOURNEY  447 

French  say;  now  we  are  married  we  can  do  as  we  please; 
we  become  king  and  queen  of  a  new  state.  In  our  own 
house  we  can  have  our  own  ways.  We  are  monarchs  of 
all  we  survey. " 

"True,"  said  I,  "and  a  home  and  a  family  that  has  an 
original  and  individual  life  of  its  own  is  always  recognized 
in  time  as  a  fait  accompli.  You  and  I  will  be  for  the 
future  *  The  Hendersons ; '  and  people  will  say  the  Hen 
dersons  do  this  and  that,  or  the  Hendersons  don't  do  the 
other.  They  will  study  us  as  one  studies  a  new  State." 

"Yes,"  said  she,  taking  up  my  idea  in  her  vivacious 
way,  "and  when  they  have  ascertained  our  latitude  and 
longitude,  soil  and  productions,  manners  and  customs,  they 
can  choose  whether  they  like  to  visit  us." 

"And  you  are  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  having  it  said, 
*  The  Hendersons  are  odd  '  ?  "  asked  I. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Eva,  "so  long  as  the  oddity 
is  some  unusual  form  of  comfort.  For  example,  a  sitting- 
room  like  your  uncle's,  with  its  brass  andirons  and  blazing 
wood  fire,  its  books  and  work,  its  motherly  lounges,  would 
be  a  sort  of  exotic  in  New  York,  where  people,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  expect  a  pier-glass  and  marble  slab,  a  sombre 
concatenation  of  cord  and  tassels  and  damask  curtains,  and 
a  given  number  of  French  chairs  and  ottomans,  veiled  with 
linen  covers,  and  a  general  funereal  darkness  of  gentility. 
Now,  I  propose  to  introduce  the  country  sitting-room  into 
our  New  York  house.  Your  mother  already  has  given  me 
her  wedding  andirons  —  perfect  loves  —  with  shovel  and 
tongs  corresponding;  and  I  am  going  to  have  a  bright, 
light,  free  and  easy  room  which  the  sunshine  shall  glorify. " 

"But  you  know,  my  love,  wood  is  very  dear  in  New 
York." 

"  So  are  curtains,  and  ottomans,  and  mirrors,  and  marble 
slabs,  and  quantities  of  things  which  we  shall  do  without. 
And  then,  you  see,  we  don't  propose  to  warm  our  house 


448  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

with  a  wood  fire,  but  only  to  adorn  it.  It  is  an  altar  fire 
that  we  will  kindle  every  evening,  just  to  light  up  our 
room  and  show  it  to  advantage.  How  charming  every 
thing  looks  at  your  mother's  in  that  time  between  daylight 
and  dark,  when  you  all  sit  round  the  hearth,  and  the  fire 
lights  up  the  pictures  and  the  books,  and  makes  every 
thing  look  so  dreamy  and  beautiful !  " 

"You  are  a  little  poet,  my  dear;  it  will  be  your  spe 
cialty  to  turn  life  into  poetry." 

"And  that  is  what  I  call  woman's  genius.  To  make 
life  beautiful;  to  keep  down  and  out  of  sight  the  hard, 
dry,  prosaic  side,  and  keep  up  the  poetry  —  that  is  my 
idea  of  our  *  mission. '  I  think  woman  ought  to  be  what 
Hawthorne  calls  *  the  Artist  of  the  Beautiful. '  " 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

MY    WIFE'S    WARDROBE 

LET  not  the  reader  imagine  by  the  paragraph  on  Saratoga 
trunks  that  my  little  wife  had  done  what  the  Scripture 
assumes  is  the  impossibility  for  womankind,  and  as  a  bride 
forgotten  her  attire.  Although  possessing  ideas  of  great 
moderation,  she  had  not  come  to  our  mountain  home  with 
out  the  appropriate  armor  of  womanhood. 

I  interpreted  the  duties  of  a  husband  after  the  direc 
tions  of  Michelet,  and  was  my  wife's  only  maid,  and  in  all 
humility  performed  for  her  the  office  of  packing  and 
unpacking  her  trunks,  and  handling  all  those  strange  and 
wonderful  mysteries  of  the  toilette,  which  seemed  to  my 
eyes  penetrated  with  an  ineffable  enchantment. 

I  have  been  struck  with  dismay  of  late,  in  reading  the 
treatises  of  some  very  clever  female  reformers  concerning 
the  dress  of  the  diviner  sex.  Is  it  really  in  contemplation 
among  them  to  reduce  it  to  a  level  as  ordinary  and  prosaic 
as  it  occupies  among  us  men,  heavy-footed  sons  of  toil1? 
Are  sashes  and  bows,  and  neck-ribbons  and  tiny  slippers 
and  gloves,  to  give  way  to  thick-soled  boots  and  buckskin 
gauntlets  and  broadcloth  coats?  To  me  my  wife's  ward 
robe  was  a  daily  poem,  and  from  her  use  of  it  I  derived  the 
satisfaction  of  faculties  which  had  lain  dormant  under  my 
heavy  black  broadcloth,  like  the  gauzy  tissue  under  the 
black  horn  wings  of  a  poor  beetle.  I  never  looked  at  the 
splendid  pictures  of  Paul  Veronese  and  Titian  in  the  Vene 
tian  galleries  without  murmuring  at  the  severe  edicts  of 
modern  life  which  send  every  man  forth  on  the  tide  of  life, 


450  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

like  a  black  gondola  condemned  to  one  unvarying  color. 
Those  gorgeous  velvets  in  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow,  those 
dainty  laces  and  splendid  gems,  which  once  were  allowed 
to  us  men,  are  all  swept  away,  and  for  us  there  remains  no 
poetry  of  dress.  Our  tailor  turns  us  out  a  suit  in  which 
one  is  just  like  another  with  scarce  an  individual  variation. 

The  wife,  then,  the  part  of  one's  self  which  marriage 
gives  us,  affords  us  a  gratification  of  these  suppressed 
faculties.  She  is  our  finer  self;  and  in  her  we  appreciate 
and  enjoy  what  is  denied  to  us.  I  freely  admit  the  truth 
of  what  women-reformers  tell  us,  that  it  is  the  admiration 
of  us  men  that  stimulates  the  love  of  dress  in  women. 
It  is  a  fact  —  I  confess  it  with  tears  in  my  eyes  —  but  it 
is  the  truth,  that  we  are  blindly  enchanted  by  that  play  of 
fancy  and  poetry  in  their  externals,  which  is  forever  denied 
to  us;  and  that  we  look  with  our  indulgent  eyes  even  on 
what  the  French  statesman  calls  their  fureurs  de  toilette. 

In  fact,  woman's  finery  never  looks  to  another  woman 
as  it  does  to  a  man.  It  has  to  us  a  charm,  a  sacredness, 
that  they  cannot  comprehend 

Under  my  wife's  instruction  I  became  an  expert  guardian 
of  these  filmy  treasures  of  the  wardrobe,  and  knew  how  to 
fold  and  unfold,  and  bring  her  everything  in  its  place,  as 
she  daily  performed  for  me  the  charming  work  of  making 
up  her  toilette.  To  be  sure,  my  slowness  and  clumsiness 
brought  me  many  brisk  little  lectures,  but  my  good  will 
and  docility  were  so  great  that  my  small  sovereign  declared 
herself  on  the  whole  satisfied  with  my  progress.  There 
was  a  vapory  collection  apparently  made  up  of  bits  and 
ends  of  rainbows,  flosses  of  clouds,  spangles  of  stars,  but 
terflies  and  humming-birds'  wings,  which  she  turned  and 
tossed  over  daily,  with  her  dainty  fingers,  selecting  a  bit 
here  and  a  morsel  there,  which  went  to  her  hair,  or  her 
neck,  or  her  girdle,  with  a  wonderful  appropriateness,  and 
in  a  manner  to  me  wholly  incomprehensible;  only  the 


MY   WIFE'S   WARDROBE  451 

result  was  a  new  picture  every  day.  This  little  artless 
tableau  was  expensive  neither  of  time  nor  money,  and  the 
result  was  a  great  deal  of  very  honest  pleasure  to  us  both. 
It  was  her  pride  to  be  praised  and  admired  first  by  me,  and 
then  by  my  mother,  and  aunt,  and  Uncle  Jacob,  who 
turned  her  round  and  admired  her  as  if  she  had  been  some 
rare  tropical  flower. 

Now,  do  the  very  alarmingly  rational  women-reformers 
I  speak  of  propose  to  forbid  to  women  in  the  future  all 
the  use  of  clothes  except  that  which  is  best  adapted  to  pur 
poses  of  work  1  Is  the  time  at  hand  when  the  veil  and 
orange  flowers  and  satin  slippers  of  the  bride  shall  melt 
away  into  mist,  and  shall  we  behold  at  the  altar  the  union 
of  young  parties,  dressed  alike  in  swallow -tailed  coats  and 
broadcloth  pantaloons,  with  brass  buttons  ? 

If  this  picture  seems  absurd,  then,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  there  is  a  reason  in  nature  why  the  dress  of  woman 
should  forever  remain  different  from  that  of  man,  in  the 
same  manner  that  the  hand  of  her  Creator  has  shaped  her 
delicate  limbs  and  golden  hair  differently  from  the  rugged 
organization  of  man.  Woman  was  meant  to  be  more  than 
a  worker;  she  was  meant  for  the  poet  and  artist  of  life; 
she  was  meant  to  be  the  charmer;  and  that  is  the  reason, 
dear  Miss  Minerva,  why  to  the  end  of  time  you  cannot 
help  it  that  women  always  will,  and  must,  give  more  care 
and  thought  to  dress  than  men. 

To  be  sure,  this  runs  into  a  thousand  follies  and  extrava 
gances;  but  in  this  as  in  everything  else  the  remedy  is  not 
extirpation,  but  direction. 

Certainly  my  pretty  wife's  pretty  toilettes  had  a  success 
in  our  limited  circle,  which  might  possibly  have  been  de 
nied  in  fashionable  society  at  Saratoga  and  Newport.  She 
was  beauty,  color,  and  life  to  our  little  world,  and  followed 
by  almost  adoring  eyes  wherever  she  went.  It  was  as  real 
an  accession  of  light  and  joy  to  the  simple  ways  of  our 


452  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

household  to  have  her  there,  as  a  choice  picture,  or  a  mar 
velous  strain  of  music.  My  wife  had  to  perfection  the 
truly  artistic  gift  of  dress.  Had  she  lived  in  Kobinson 
Crusoe's  island  with  no  one  to  look  at  her  but  the  paroquets 
and  the  monkeys,  and  with  no  mirror  but  a  pool  of  water, 
she  would  have  made  a  careful  toilette  every  day,  from  the 
mere  love  of  beauty;  and  it  was  delightful  to  see  how  a 
fresh,  young,  charming  woman,  by  this  faculty  of  adorn 
ment,  seemed  to  make  the  whole  of  the  sober  old  house 
like  a  picture  or  a  poem. 

"She  is  like  the  blossom  on  a  cactus,"  said  my  Uncle 
Jacob.  "We  have  come  to  our  flower,  in  her;  we  have 
it  in  us;  we  all  like  it,  but  she  brings  it  out;  she  is  our 
blossom. " 

In  fact,  it  was  charming  to  see  the  delight  of  the  two 
sober,  elderly  matrons,  my  mother  and  my  aunt,  in  turning 
over  and  surveying  the  pretty  things  of  her  toilette.  My 
mother,  with  all  her  delicate  tastes  and  love  of  fineness  and 
exquisiteness,  had  lived  in  these  respects  the  self-denied 
life  of  a  poor  country  minister's  wife,  who  never  has  but 
one  "  best  pocket-handkerchief,"  and  whom  one  pair  of  gloves 
must  last  through  a  year.  It  was  a  fresh  little  scene  of 
delight  to  see  the  two  way-worn  matrons  in  the  calm,  sil 
very  twilight  of  their  old  age,  sitting  like  a  pair  of  amicable 
doves  on  the  trunks  in  our  room,  while  my  wife  displayed 
to  them  all  her  little  store  of  fineries,  and  all  three  chatted 
them  over  with  as  whole-hearted  a  zeal  as  if  finery  were 
one  of  the  final  ends  in  creation. 

Every  morning  it  was  a  part  of  the  family  breakfast  to 
admire  some  new  device  of  berries  or  blossoms  adapted  to 
her  toilette.  Now,  it  was  knots  of  blue  violets,  and  now 
clusters  of  apple  blossoms,  that  seemed  to  adapt  themselves 
to  the  purpose,  as  if  they  had  been  made  for  it.  In  the 
same  manner  she  went  about  the  house  filling  all  possible 
flower  vases  with  quaint  and  original  combinations  of  leaves 
and  blossoms  till  the  house  bloomed  like  a  garland. 


MY   WIFE'S   WARDROBE  453 

Then  there  were  days  when  I  have  the  vision  of  my  wife 
in  calico  dress  and  crisp  white  apron,  taking  lessons  in 
ornamental  housewifery  of  my  mother  and  aunt  in  the 
great,  clean  kitchen.  There  the  three  proceeded  with  all 
care  and  solemnity  to  perform  the  incantations  out  of  which 
arose  strange  savory  compounds  of  cakes  and  confections, 
whose  recipes  were  family  heirlooms.  Out  of  great  plat 
ters  of  egg-whites,  whipped  into  foamy  masses,  these  mys 
tical  dainties  arose,  as  of  old  rose  Venus  from  the  foam  of 
the  sea. 

I  observe  that  the  elderly  priestesses  in  the  temple  of 
domestic  experience  have  a  peculiar  pride  and  pleasure  in 
the  young  neophyte  that  seeks  admission  to  these  Eleusinian 
mysteries. 

Eva  began  to  wear  an  air  of  precocious  matronly  grav 
ity,  as  she  held  long  discourses  with  my  mother  and  aunt 
on  all  the  high  mysteries  of  household  ways,  following 
them  even  to  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  house  where  they 
displayed  to  her  their  hidden  treasures  of  fine  linen  and 
napery,  and  drew  forth  gifts  wherewith  to  enrich  our  fu 
ture  home. 

In  the  olden  times  the  family  linen  of  a  bride  was  of  her 
own  spinning  and  that  of  her  mother  and  kinswomen;  so 
that  every  thread  in  it  had  a  sacredness  of  family  life  and 
association.  One  can  fancy  dreams  of  peace  could  come  in 
a  bed,  every  thread  of  whose  linen  has  been  spun  by 
loving  and  sainted  hands.  So,  the  gift  to  my  wife  from 
my  mother  was  some  of  this  priceless  old  linen,  every  piece 
of  which  had  its  story.  These  towels  were  spun  by  a  be 
loved  Aunt  Avis,  whose  life  was  a  charming  story  of  faith 
and  patience ;  and  those  sheets  and  pillow-cases  were  the 
work  of  my  mother's  mother;  they  had  been  through  the 
history  of  a  family  life,  and  came  to  us  fragrant  with  rose 
mary  and  legend.  We  touched  them  with  reverence,  as 
the  relics  of  ascended  saints. 


454  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

Then  there  were  the  family  receipt-books,  which  had  a 
quaint  poetry  of  their  own.  I  must  confess,  in  the  face 
of  the  modern  excellent  printed  manuals  of  cookery  and 
housekeeping,  a  tenderness  for  these  old-fashioned  receipt- 
books  of  our  mothers  and  grandmothers,  yellow  with  age, 
where  in  their  own  handwriting  are  the  records  of  their 
attainments  and  discoveries  in  the  art  of  making  life  health 
ful  and  charming.  There  was  a  loving  carefulness  about 
these  receipts  —  an  evident  breathing  of  human  experience 
and  family  life  —  they  were  entwined  with  so  many  asso 
ciations  of  the  tastes  and  habits  of  individual  members  of 
the  family,  that  the  reading  of  my  mother's  receipt-book 
seemed  to  bring  back  all  the  old  pictures  of  home  life; 
and  this  precious  manual  she  gave  to  Eva,  who  forthwith 
resolved  to  set  up  one  of  her  own  on  the  model  of  it. 

In  short,  by  the  time  our  honeymoon  had  passed  Eva 
regarded  herself  as  a  past  mistress  in  the  grand  free 
masonry  of  home  life,  and  assumed  toward  me  those  grave 
little  airs  of  instruction  blent  with  gracious  condescension 
for  male  inferiority  which  obtain  among  good  wives.  She 
began  to  be  my  little  mother  no  less  than  wife. 

My  mother  and  aunt  were  confident  of  her  success  and 
abilities  as  queen  in  her  new  dominions.  It  was  evident 
that  though  a  city  girl  and  a  child  of  wealth  and  fashion, 
she  had  what  Yankee  matrons  are  pleased  to  denominate 
"faculty,"  which  is,  being  interpreted,  a  genius  for  home 
life,  and  she  was  only  impatient  now  to  return  to  her  realm 
and  set  up  her  kingdom. 


CHAPTER   XLV 

LETTERS    FROM    NEW    YORK 

ABOUT  this  time  we  got  a  very  characteristic  letter  from 
Jim.  Here  it  is :  — 

DEAR  HAL,  —  My  head  buzzes  like  a  swarm  of  bees. 
What  haven't  I  done  since  you  left?  The  Van  Arsdels 
are  all  packing  up  and  getting  ready  to  move  out,  and  of 
course  I  have  been  up  making  myself  generally  useful 
there.  I  have  been  daily  call-boy  and  page  to  the  adorable 
Alice.  Mem.  —  That  girl  is  a  brick!  Didn't  use  to 
think  so,  but  she  's  sublime!  The  way  she  takes  things  is 
so  confounded  sensible  and  steady !  I  respect  her  —  there  's 
not  a  bit  of  nonsense  about  her  now  —  you  'd  better  be 
lieve.  They  are  all  going  up  to  the  old  paternal  farm  to 
spend  the  summer  with  his  father,  and  by  fall  there  '11  be 
an  arrangement  to  give  him  an  income  (Van  Arsdel  I 
mean),  so  that  they  '11  have  something  to  go  on.  They  '11 
take  a  house  somewhere  in  New  York  in  the  fall  and  do 
fairly ;  but  think  what  a  change  to  Alice ! 

Oh,  by  the  bye,  Hal,  the  Whang  Doodle  has  made  her 
appearance  in  our  parts  again.  Yesterday  as  I  sat  scratch 
ing  for  dear  life,  our  friend  'Dacia  sailed  in,  cock's-feathers 
and  all,  large  as  life.  She  was  after  money,  as  usual,  but 
this  time  it 's  her  book  she  insisted  on  my  subscribing  for. 
She  informed  me  that  it  was  destined  to  regenerate  society, 
and  she  wanted  five  dollars  for  it. 

The  title  is:  — 


456  MY   WIFE  AND   I 

THE    UNIVERSAL    EMPYREAL    HARMONIAD, 
BEING 

An   Exposition   of  the   Dual    Triplicate 
Conglomeration   of  the   Infinite. 

There,  now,  is  a  book  for  you. 

'Dacia  was  in  high  spirits,  jaunty  as  ever,  and  informed 
me  that  the  millennium  was  a-coming  straight  along,  and 
favored  me  with  her  views  of  how  they  intended  to  manage 
things  in  the  good  time. 

The  great  mischief  at  present,  she  informs  me,  lies  in 
possessive  pronouns,  which  they  intend  to  abolish.  There 
is  n't  to  be  any  my  or  thy.  Everybody  is  to  have  every 
thing  just  the  minute  they  happen  to  want  it,  and  every 
body  else  is  to  let  'em.  Marriage  is  an  old  effete  institu 
tion,  a  relic  of  barbarous  ages.  There  is  to  be  no  my  of 
husband  and  wife,  and  no  my  of  children.  The  State  is 
to  raise  all  the  children  as  they  do  turnips  in  great  insti 
tutions,  and  they  are  to  belong  to  everybody.  Love,  she 
informed  me,  in  those  delightful  days  is  to  be  free  as  air; 
everybody  to  do  exactly  as  they  've  a  mind  to;  a  privilege 
she  remarked  that  she  took  now  as  her  right.  "If  I  see 
a  man  that  pleases  me,"  said  she,  "I  shall  not  ask  Priest 
or  Levite  for  leave  to  have  him."  This  was  declared  with 
so  martial  an  air  that  I  shrank  a  little,  but  she  relieved  me 
by  saying,  "You  needn't  be  frightened.  I  don't  want 
you.  You  wouldn't  suit  me.  All  I  want  of  you  is  your 
money."  Whereat  she  came  down  to  business  again. 

The  book  she  informed  me  was  every  word  of  it  dictated 
by  spirits  while  she  was  in  the  trance  state,  and  was  com 
posed  conjointly  by  Socrates,  St.  Paul,  Ching  Ling,  and 
Jim  Crow,  representing  different  races  of  the  earth  and 
states  of  progression.  From  some  specimens  of  the  style 
which  she  read  to  me,  I  was  led  to  hope  that  we  might  all 
live  as  long  as  possible,  if  that  sort  of  thing  is  what  we 
are  coming  to  after  death. 


LETTERS  FROM  NEW   YORK  457 

Well,  it  was  all  funny  and  entertaining  enough  to  hear 
her  go  on,  but  when  it  came  to  buying  the  book  and  plank 
ing  the  V,  I  flunked.  Told  'Dacia  I  could  n't  encourage 
her  in  possessive  pronouns,  that  she  had  no  more  right  to 
the  book  than  I  had,  that  truth  was  a  universal  birthright, 
and  so  the  truths  in  that  book  were  mine  as  much  as  hers, 
and  as  I  needed  a  V  more  than  she  did  I  proposed  she 
should  buy  the  book  of  me.  She  didn't  see  it  in  that 
light,  and  we  had  high  words  in  consequence,  and  she 
poured  down  on  me  like  a  thousand  of  brick,  and  so  I 
coolly  walked  downstairs,  telling  her  when  she  had  done 
scolding  to  shut  the  door. 

Is  n't  she  a  case  1  The  Dominie  was  up  in  his  den,  and 
I  believe  she  got  at  him  after  I  left.  How  he  managed 
her  I  don't  know.  He  won't  talk  about  her.  The  Dom 
inie  is  working  like  a  Trojan,  and  his  family  are  doing 
finely.  The  kittens  are  all  over  his  room  with  as  many 
capers  as  the  fairies,  and  I  hear  him  laughing  all  by  him 
self  at  the  way  they  go  on.  We  have  looked  at  a  dozen 
houses  advertised  in  the  paper,  but  not  one  yet  is  the  bar 
gain  you  want ;  but  we  trudge  on  the  quest  all  our  exercise- 
time  daily.  It  will  turn  up  yet,  I  'm  convinced,  the  very 
thing  you  want. 

Heigho,  Hal,  you  are  a  lucky  dog.  I  'm  like  a  lean  old 
nag  out  on  a  common,  looking  over  a  fence  and  seeing  you 
in  clover  up  to  your  hat-band.  If  my  kettle  only  could 
boil  for  two  I  'd  risk  about  the  possessive  pronouns.  To 
say  the  truth  I  am  tired  of  I  and  my,  and  would  like  to 
say  we  and  our  if  I  dared. 

Come  home  anyway  and  kindle  your  tent  fire,  and  let 
a  poor  tramp  warm  himself  at  it. 

Your  dog  and  slave,          JIM. 

Bolton's  letter  was  as  follows:  — 


458  MY   WIFE    AND   I 

DEAR  HAL,  —  I  promised  you  a  family  cat,  but  I  am 
going  to  do  better  by  you.  There  is  a  pair  of  my  kittens 
that  would  bring  laughter  to  the  cheeks  of  a  dying  ancho 
rite.  They  are  just  the  craziest  specimens  of  pure  jollity 
that  flesh,  blood,  and  fur  could  be  wrought  into.  Who 
wants  a  comic  opera  at  a  dollar  a  night  when  a  family  cat 
will  supply  eight  kittens  a  year?  Nobody  seems  to  have 
found  out  what  kittens  are  for.  I  do  believe  these  two 
kittens  of  mine  would  cure  the  most  obstinate  hypochondria 
of  mortal  man,  and,  think  of  it,  I  am  going  to  give  them 
to  you!  Their  names  are  Whisky  and  Frisky,  and  their 
ways  are  past  finding  out. 

The  house  in  which  the  golden  age  pastoral  is  to  be 
enacted  has  not  yet  been  found.  It  is  somewhere  in  fairy 
land,  and  will  probably  suddenly  appear  to  you  as  things 
used  to,  to  good  knights  in  enchanted  forests. 

Jim  and  I  went  down  to  the  steamer  yesterday  to  see 
Miss  Van  Arsdel  and  your  cousin  off  for  Europe.  They 
are  part  of  a  very  pleasant  party  that  are  going  together, 
and  seem  in  high  spirits.  I  find  her  articles  (your  cousin's) 
take  well,  and  there  is  an  immediate  call  for  more.  So 
far,  good !  Stay  your  month  out,  my  boy,  and  get  all  you 
can  out  of  it  before  you  come  back  to  the  "dem'd  horrid 
grind  "  of  New  York. 

Ever  yours,  BOLTON. 

P.  S.  —  While  I  have  been  writing,  Whisky  and  Frisky 
have  pitched  into  a  pile  of  the  proof-sheets  of  your  "Milky 
Way  "  story,  and  performed  a  ballet  dance  with  them  so 
that  they  are  rather  the  worse  for  wear.  No  fatal  harm 
done,  however,  and  I  find  it  reads  capitally.  I  met  Hes- 
termann  yesterday  quite  enthusiastic  over  one  of  your  arti 
cles  in  the  "  Democracy  "  that  happened  to  hit  his  fancy, 
and  plumed  myself  to  him  for  having  secured  you  next 
year  for  his  service.  So,  you  see,  your  star  is  in  the  ascend 
ant.  The  Hestermanns  are  liberal  fellows,  and  the  place 


LETTEES   FROM  NEW   YORK  459 

you  have  is  as  sure  as  the  Bank  of  England.      So  your 
pastoral  will  have  a  good  bit  of  earthly  ground  to  hegin  on. 

B. 
The  next  was  from  Alice. 

DEAR  SISTER,  —  I  am  so  tired  out  with  packing  and 
all  the  thousand  and  one  things  that  have  to  be  attended 
to !  You  know  mamma  is  not  strong,  and  now  you  and 
Ida  are  gone,  I  am  the  eldest  daughter,  and  take  everything 
on  my  shoulders.  Aunt  Maria  comes  here  daily,  looking 
like  a  hearse,  and  I  really  think  she  depresses  mamma  as 
much  by  her  lugubrious  ways  as  she  helps.  She  positively 
is  a  most  provoking  person.  She  assumes  with  such  cer 
tainty  that  mamma  is  a  fool,  and  that  all  that  has  happened 
out  of  the  way  comes  by  some  fault  of  hers,  that  when  she 
has  been  here  a  day  mamma  is  sure  to  have  a  headache. 
But  I  have  discovered  faculties  and  strength  I  never  knew 
I  possessed.  I  have  taken  on  myself  the  whole  work  of 
separating  the  things  we  are  to  keep  from  those  which  are 
to  be  sold,  and  those  which  we  are  to  take  into  the  country 
with  us  from  those  which  are  to  be  stored  in  New  York 
for  our  return.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  if 
Jim  Fellows  hadn't  been  the  real  considerate  friend  he  is. 
Papa  is  overwhelmed  with  settling  up  business  matters,  and 
one  wants  to  save  him  every  care,  and  Jim  has  really  been 
like  a  brother  —  looking  up  a  place  to  store  the  goods, 
finding  just  the  nicest  kind  of  a  man  to  cart  them,  and 
actually  coming  in  and  packing  for  me,  till  I  told  him  I 
knew  he  must  be  giving  us  time  that  he  wanted  for  him 
self —  and  all  this  with  so  much  fun  and  jollification  that 
we  really  have  had  some  merry  times  over  it,  and  quite 
shocked  Aunt  Maria,  who  insists  on,  maintaining  a  general 
demeanor  as  if  there  were  a  corpse  in  the  house. 

One  wicked  thing  about  Jim  is  that  he  will  take  her  off; 
and  though  I  scold  him  for  it,  between  you  and  me,  Eva, 


460  MY  WIFE  AND  I 

and  in  the  "buzzom  of  the  family,"  as  old  Mrs.  Knabbs 
used  to  say,  I  must  admit  that  it 's  a  little  too  funny  for 
anything.  He  can  make  himself  look  and  speak  exactly 
like  her,  and  breaks  out  in  that  way  every  once  in  a  while ; 
and  if  we  reprove  him,  says,  "What's  the  matter?  Who 
are  you  thinking  of?  I  wasn't  thinking  of  what  you 
were."  He  is  a  dreadful  rogue,  and  one  can't  do  anything 
with  him;  but  what  we  should  have  done  without  him 
I  'm  sure  I  don't  know. 

Sophie  Elmore  called  the  other  day,  and  told  me  all 
about  things  between  her  and  Sydney.  She  is  sending  to 
Paris  for  all  her  things,  and  Tullegig's  is  all  in  commotion. 
They  are  to  be  married  early  in  October  and  go  off  for  a 
tour  in  Europe.  You  ought  to  see  the  gloom  on  Aunt 
Maria's  visage  when  the  thing  is  talked  about.  If  it  had 
been  anybody  but  the  Elmores  I  think  Aunt  Maria  could 
have  survived  it,  but  they  have  been  her  Mordecai  in  the 
gate  all  this  time,  and  now  she  sees  them  triumphant.  She 
speaks  familiarly  about  our  being  ruined,  and  finally  the 
other  day  I  told  her  that  I  found  ruin  altogether  a  more 
comfortable  thing  than  I  expected,  whereat  she  looked  at 
me  as  if  I  were  an  abandoned  sinner,  sighed  deeply,  and 
said  nothing.  Poor  soul!  I  oughtn't  to  laugh,  but  she 
does  provoke  me  so  I  am  tempted  to  revenge  myself  in  a 
little  quiet  fun  at  her  expense. 

The  other  day  Jim  was  telling  me  about  a  house  he  had 
been  looking  at.  Aunt  Maria  listened  with  a  severe  grav 
ity  and  interposed  with,  "  Of  course  nobody  could  live  on 
that  street.  Eva  would  be  crazy  to  think  of  it.  There 
isn't  a  good  family  within  squares  of  that  quarter." 

I  said  you  did  n't  care  for  fashion,  and  she  gave  me  one 
of  her  looks,  and  said,  "I  trust  I  sha'n't  see  Eva  in  that 
street;  none  but  most  ordinary  people  live  there."  Only 
think,  Eva,  what  if  you  should  live  on  a  street  where  ordi 
nary  people  live?  How  dreadful! 


LETTERS  FROM  NEW  YORK          461 

V 

Well,  darling,  I  can't  write  more;  my  hands  are  dusty 
with  packing  and  overhauling,  and  I  am  writing  now  on 
the  top  of  a  box  waiting  for  the  man  to  cart  away  the  next 
load.  We  are  all  well,  and  the  girls  behave  charmingly, 
and  are  just  as  handy  and  helpful  as  they  can  be,  and 
mamma  says  she  never  knew  the  comfort  of  her  children 
before. 

God  bless  you,  dear,  and  good-by. 

Your  loving  sister  ALICE. 


CHAPTER   XL VI 
AUNT  MARIA'S  DICTUM 

OUR  lovely  moon  of  moons  had  now  waned,  and  the 
time  drew  on  when,  like  Adam  and  Eve,  we  were  hand  in 
hand  to  turn  our  backs  on  paradise  and  set  our  faces  toward 
the  battle  of  life. 

"The  world  was  all  before  us  where  to  choose."  In 
just  this  crisis  we  got  the  following  from  Aunt  Maria:  — 

MY  DEAR  EVA,  —  Notwithstanding  all  that  has  passed, 
I  cannot  help  writing  to  show  that  interest  in  your  affairs 
which  it  may  be  presumed,  as  your  aunt  and  godmother, 
I  have  some  right  to  feel,  and  though  I  know  that  my 
advice  always  has  been  disregarded,  still  I  think  it  my 
duty  to  speak,  and  shall  speak. 

Of  course,  as  I  have  not  been  consulted  or  taken  into 
your  confidence  at  all,  this  may  seem  like  interference, 
but  I  overheard  Mr.  Fellows  talking  with  Alice  about 
looking  for  houses  for  you,  and  I  must  tell  you  that  I  am 
astonished  that  you  should  think  of  such  a  thing.  House 
keeping  is  very  expensive,  if  you  keep  house  with  the  least 
attention  to  appearance ;  and  genteel  board  can  be  obtained 
at  a  far  less  figure.  Then  as  to  your  investing  the  little 
that  your  grandmother  left  you  in  a  house,  it  is  something 
that  shows  such  childish  ignorance  as  really  is  pitiable.  I 
don't  suppose  either  you  or  your  husband  ever  priced  an 
article  of  furniture  at  David  &  Saul's  in  your  lives,  and 
have  not  the  smallest  idea  of  the  cost  of  all  those  things 
which  a  house  makes  at  once  indispensable.  You  fancy 


AUNT  MARIA'S  DICTUM  463 

a  house  arranged  as  you  have  always  seen  your  father's, 
and  do  not  know  that  the  kind  of  marriage  you  have  chosen 
places  all  these  luxuries  wholly  out  of  your  reach.  Then 
as  to  the  house  itself,  the  whole  of  your  little  property 
would  go  but  a  small  way  toward  giving  you  a  dwelling 
any  way  respectable  for  you  to  live  in. 

It  is  true  there  are  cheap  little  houses  in  New  York,  but 
where,  and  on  what  streets  1  You  would  not  want  to  live 
among  mechanics  and  dentists,  small  clerks,  and  people  of 
that  description.  Everything  when  one  is  first  married 
depends  on  taking  a  right  stand  in  the  beginning.  Of 
course,  since  the  ruin  that  has  come  on  your  father,  and 
with  which  you  will  see  I  never  reproach  you,  though  you 
might  have  prevented  it,  it  is  necessary  for  all  of  us  to  be 
doubly  careful.  Everybody  is  very  kind  and  considerate, 
and  people  have  called  and  continue  to  invite  us,  and  we 
may  maintain  our  footing  as  before,  if  we  give  our  whole 
mind  to  it,  as  evidently  it  is  our  duty  to  do,  paying  proper 
attention  to  appearances.  I  have  partially  engaged  a  place 
for  you,  subject  of  course  to  your  and  your  husband's  ap 
proval,  at  Mivart's,  which  is  a  place  that  can  be  spoken  of 
—  a  place  where  the  best  sort  of  people  are.  Mrs.  Mivart 
is  a  protegee  of  mine,  and  is  willing  to  take  you  at  a  con 
siderable  reduction,  if  you  take  a  small  back  room.  Thus 
you  will  have  no  cares,  and  no  obligations  of  hospitality, 
and  be  able  to  turn  your  resources  all  to  keeping  up  the 
proper  air  and  appearances,  which  with  the  present  shock 
ing  prices  for  everything,  silks,  gloves,  shoes,  etc.,  and  the 
requirements  of  the  times,  are  something  quite  frightful  to 
contemplate. 

The  course  of  conduct  I  have  indicated  seems  specially 
necessary  in  view  of  Alice's  future.  The  blight  that  comes 
on  all  her  prospects  in  this  dreadful  calamity  of  your 
father's  is  something  that  lies  with  weight  on  my  mind. 
A  year  ago  Alice  might  have  commanded  the  very  best  of 


464  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

offers,  and  we  had  every  reason  to  hope  such  an  establish 
ment  for  her  as  her  beauty  and  accomplishments  ought  to 
bring.  It  is  a  mercy  to  think  that  she  will  still  be  invited 
and  have  her  chances,  though  she  will  have  to  struggle 
with  her  limited  means  to  keep  up  a  proper  style ;  but  with 
energy  and  attention  it  can  be  done.  I  have  known  girls 
capable  of  making,  in  secret,  dresses  and  bonnets  that  were 
ascribed  to  the  first  artists.  The  puffed  tulle  in  which 
Sallie  Morton  came  to  your  last  german  was  wholly  of  her 
own  make  —  although  of  course  this  was  told  me  in  confi 
dence  by  her  mother  and  ought  to  go  no  farther.  But  if 
you  take  a  mean  little  house  among  ordinary  low  classes, 
and  live  in  a  poor,  cheap,  and  scrubby  way,  of  course  you 
cut  yourself  off  from  society,  and  you  see  it  degrades  the 
whole  family.  I  am  sure,  as  I  told  your  mother,  nothing 
but  your  inexperience  would  lead  you  to  think  of  it,  and 
your  husband  being  a  literary  man  naturally  would  not  un 
derstand  considerations  of  this  nature.  I  have  seen  a  good 
deal  of  life,  and  I  give  it  as  the  result  of  my  observation 
that  there  are  two  things  that  very  materially  influence 
standing  in  society:  the  part  of  the  city  we  live  in,  and 
the  church  we  go  to.  Of  course,  I  presume  you  will  not 
think  of  leaving  your  church,  which  has  in  it  the  most 
select  circles  of  New  York.  A  wife's  religious  consolations 
are  things  no  husband  should  interfere  with,  and  I  trust 
you  will  not  fling  away  your  money  on  a  mean  little  house 
in  a  fit  of  childish  ignorance.  You  will  want  the  income 
of  that  money  for  your  dress,  and  carriages  for  calls  and 
other  items  essential  to  keep  up  life. 

I  suppose  you  have  heard  that  the  Elmores  are  making 
extensive  preparations  for  Sophie's  wedding  in  the  fall. 
When  I  see  the  vanity  and  instability  of  earthly  riches,  I 
cannot  but  be  glad  that  there  is  a  better  world;  the  conso 
lations  of  religion  at  times  are  all  one  has  to  turn  to.  Be 
careful  of  your  health,  my  dear  child,  and  don't  wet  your 


AUNT  MARIA'S  DICTUM  465 

feet.     From  your  letters  I  should  infer  that  you  were  need 
lessly  going  into  very  damp,  unpleasant  places.      \Yrite  me 
immediately  what  I  am  to  tell  them  at  Mivart's. 
Tour  affectionate  aunt, 

MARIA  WOUVERMAXS. 

It  was  as  good  as  a  play  to  see  my  wife's  face  as  she 
read  this  letter,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  an  impatient  tap 
ping  of  her  little  foot  that  foreboded  an  outburst. 

"Just  like  her  for  all  the  world,"  she  said,  tossing  the 
letter  to  me,  which  I  read  with  vast  amusement. 

"We  '11  have  a  house  of  our  own  as  quick  as  we  can  get 
one,"  she  said.  "I  think  I  see  myself  gossiping  in  a 
boarding-house,  hanging  on  to  the  outskirts  of  fashion  in 
the  way  she  plans,  making  puffed  tulle  dresses  in  secret 
places  and  wearing  out  life  to  look  as  if  I  were  as  rich  as 
I  am  not,  and  trying  to  keep  step  with  people  of  five  times 
our  income.  If  you  catch  Eva  Van  Arsdel  at  that  game, 
then  tell  me !  " 

"Eva  Van  Arsdel  is  a  being  of  the  past,  fortunately  for 
me,  darling." 

""Well,  Eva  Van  Arsdel  Henderson,  then,"  said  she. 
"That  compound  personage  is  stronger  and  more  defiant  of 
worldly  nonsense  than  the  old  Eva  dared  to  be." 

"And  I  think  your  aunt  has  no  idea  of  what  there  is 
developing  in  Alice." 

"To  be  sure  she  hasn't;  not  the  remotest.  Alice  is 
proud  and  sensible,  proud  in  the  proper  way  I  mean.  She 
was  full  willing  to  take  the  goods  the  gods  provided  while 
she  had  them,  but  she  never  will  stoop  to  all  the  worries, 
and  cares,  and  little  mean  artifices  of  genteel  poverty.  She 
never  will  dress  and  go  out  on  hunting  expeditions  to  catch 
a  rich  husband.  I  always  said  Alice's  mind  lay  in  two 
strata,  the  upper  one  worldly  and  ambitious,  the  second 
generous  and  high-minded.  Our  fall  from  wealth  has  been 


466  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

like  a  landslide;  the  upper  stratum  has  slid  off  and  left 
the  lower.  Alice  will  now  show  that  she  is  both  a  strong 
and  noble  woman.  Our  engagement  and  marriage  have 
wholly  converted  her,  and  she  has  stood  by  me  like  a  little 
Trojan  all  along." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "about  this  letter?" 

"Oh!  you  answer  it  for  me.  It's  time  Aunt  Maria 
learned  that  there  is  a  man  to  the  fore;  besides,  you  are 
not  vexed,  you  are  only  amused,  and  you  can  write  a  diplo 
matic  letter." 

"And  tell  her  sweetly  and  politely,  with  all  ruffles  and 
trimmings,  that  it  is  none  of  her  business  1  "  said  I. 

"  Yes,  just  that,  but  of  course  with  all  possible  homage 
of  your  high  consideration.  Then  till  we  can  find  a  house 
I  suppose  we  can  find  nice  country  board  for  the  hot  months 
near  New  York,  where  you  can  come  out  every  night  on 
the  railroad  and  stay  Sundays." 

"Exactly.  I  have  the  place  all  thought  of  and  terms 
arranged  long  ago.  A  charming  Quaker  family  where  you 
will  find  the  best  of  fruit,  and  the  nicest  of  board,  and  the 
quietest  and  gentlest  of  hosts,  all  for  a  sum  quite  within 
our  means." 

"And  then,"  said  she,  "by  fall  I  trust  we  shall  find  a 
house  to  suit  us." 

"Certainly,"  said  I.  "I  have  faith  that  such  a  house 
is  all  waiting  for  us  somewhere  in  the  unknown  future. 
We  are  traveling  toward  it,  and  shall  know  it  when  we 
see  it." 

"Just  think,"  said  my  wife,  "of  Aunt  Maria  as  suggest 
ing  that  we  should  board  so  that  we  could  shirk  all  obliga 
tions  of  hospitality!  What's  life  good  for  if  you  can't 
have  your  friends  with  you,  and  make  people  happy  under 
yourroof  1 " 

"And  who  would  think  of  counting  the  money  spent  in 
hospitality  1 "  said  I. 


AUNT  MARIA'S  DICTUM  467 

"  Yet  I  have  heard  of  people  who  purposely  plan  to  have 
no  spare  room  in  their  house,"  answered  Eva.  "I  remem 
ber,  now,  Aunt  Maria's  speaking  of  Mrs.  Jacobs  with 
approbation  for  just  this  piece  of  economy." 

"By  which  she  secures  money  for  party  dresses  and  a 
brilliant  annual  entertainment,  I  suppose,"  said  I. 

"Well,"  said  Eva,  "I  have  always  imagined  my  home 
with  friends  in  it.  A  warm  peculiar  corner  for  each  one 
of  yours  and  mine.  It  is  the  very  charm  of  the  prospect 
when  I  figure  this,  that,  and  the  other  one  enjoying  with 
us,  and  then  I  have  the  great  essential  of  '  help  '  secured. 
Do  you  know  that  there  was  one  Mary  McClellan  married 
from  our  house  years  ago  who  was  a  perfect  adorer  at  my 
shrine,  and  always  begged  me  to  be  married  that  she  might 
come  and  live  with  me  ?  Now  she  is  a  widow  with  a  little 
girl  eight  years  old,  and  it  is  the  desire  of  her  heart  to  get 
a  place  where  she  can  have  her  child  with  her.  It  will  fit 
exactly.  The  little  cub,  under  my  training,  can  wait  on 
the  table  and  tend  the  door,  and  Mary  will  be  meanwhile 
a  mother  to  me  in  my  inexperience." 

"Capital!"  said  I.  "lam  sure  our  star  is  in  the  as 
cendant,  and  we  shall  hear  from  our  house  before  the 
summer  is  through." 

One  day,  near  the  first  of  October,  while  up  for  a 
Sunday  at  our  country  boarding-place,  I  got  the  following 
letter  from  Jim  Fellows :  — 


MY  DEAR  OLD  BOY,  —  I  think  we  have  got  it.  I 
mean  got  the  house.  I  am  not  quite  sure  what  your  wife 
will  say,  but  I  happened  to  meet  Miss  Alice  last  night  and 
I  told  her,  and  she  says  she  is  sure  it  will  do.  Hear  and 
understand. 

Coming  down  town  yesterday  I  bought  the  "Herald" 
and  read  to  my  joy  that  Jack  Fergus  had  been  appointed 
Consul  to  Algiers.  To  say  the  truth  wre  fellows  have 


468  MY   WIFE  AND  I 

thought  the  game  was  pretty  much  up  with  poor  Jack;  his 
throat  and  lungs  are  so  bad,  and  his  family  consumptive. 
So  I  said  when  I  read  it,  "Good!  there  's  a  thing  that  '11 
do.7'  I  went  right  round  to  congratulate  him  and  found 
three  or  four  of  our  fellows  doing  the  same  thing.  Jack 
was  pleased,  said  it  was  all  right,  but  still  I  could  see  there 
was  a  hitch  somewhere,  and  that,  in  fact,  it  was  not  all 
right,  and  when  the  other  fellows  went  away  I  stayed,  and 
then  it  came  out.  He  said  at  once  that  he  was  glad  of  the 
appointment,  but  that  he  had  no  money;  the  place  at 
Algiers  does  not  support  a  man.  He  will  have  to  give  up 
his  bank  salary,  and  unless  he  could  sell  his  house  for  ready 
money  he  could  do  nothing.  I  never  knew  he  had  any 
house.  Heaven  knows  none  of  the  rest  of  us  have  got 
any  houses.  But  it  seems  some  aunt  of  his,  an  old  Knick 
erbocker,  left  him  one.  Well,  I  asked  him  why  he  did  n't 
sell  it.  He  said  he  couldn't.  He  had  had  two  agents 
there  that  morning.  They  would  n't  give  him  any  encour 
agement  till  the  whole  place  was  sold  together.  They 
wouldn't  offer  anything,  and  would  only  say  they  would 
advertise  it  on  his  account.  You  see  it  is  one  of  those 
betwixt-and-between  places  which  is  going  to  be  a  business 
place,  but  isn't  yet.  So  he  said;  and  it  was  that  which 
made  me  think  of  you  and  your  wife. 

I  asked  where  it  was,  and  he  told  me.  It  is  one  of 
those  little  streets  that  lead  out  of  Varick  Street,  if  you 
know  where  that  is;  I  '11  bet  Mrs.  Henderson  a  dozen  pair 
that  she  does  n't.  Well,  I  went  with  him  to  see  it  when 
the  bank  closed,  for  I  still  thought  of  you.  By  George,  I 
think  you  will  like  it.  It  is  the  last  house  in  a  block ;  the 
street  is  dull  enough,  but  is  inhabited  by  decent,  quiet  peo 
ple,  who  mind  their  own  business.  Of  course  the  respect 
able  Mrs.  Wouvermans  would  think  it  an  unkno^ivn  horror 
to  live  there;  and  be  quite  sure  they  were  all  Jews  or 
sorcerers,  or  some  other  sort  of  come-outers.  Well,  this 


AUNT  MARIA'S  DICTUM  4G9 

house  itself  is  not  like  the  rest  of  the  block  —  having  been 
built  by  this  old  Aunt  Martila,  or  Van  Beest,  or  whatever 
else  her  name  was,  for  her  own  use.  It  is  a  brick  house, 
with  a  queer  stoop,  two  and  a  half  stories  high  (the  house, 
not  the  stoop),  with  a  bay-window  on  the  end,  going  out 
on  a  sort  of  a  churchyard,  across  which  you  look  to  what 
is,  I  believe,  St.  John's  Park1  —  a  place  with  trees,  and 
English  sparrows,  and  bird-houses,  and  things.  Jack  and 
his  wife  have  made  the  place  look  quite  cosy,  and  managed 
to  get  a  deal  of  comfort  out  of  it.  I  wish  I  could  buy  it 
and  take  my  wife  there  if  only  I  had  one.  This  place 
Jack  will  sell  for  eight  thousand  dollars  —  four  thousand 
down  and  four  thousand  on  mortgage.  I  call  that  dirt 
cheap,  and  Livingstone,  our  head  bookkeeper,  who  used  to 
be  a  house-broker,  tells  me  it  is  a  bargain  such  as  he  never 
heard  of,  and  that  you  can  sell  it  at  any  time  for  more  than 
that.  I  have  taken  the  refusal  for  three  days,  so  come 
down,  both  of  you,  bright  and  early  Monday  and  look 
at  it. 

So  down  we  came;  we  saw;  we  bought.  In  a  few  days 
we  were  ready,  key  in  hand,  to  open  and  walk  into  "  Our 
House." 

1  It  was;  but  alas!  since  the  recent  time  of  this  story,  insatiate  com 
merce  has  taken  the  old  Park  and  built  therein  a  huge  railway  freight 
depot. 


CHAPTER   XLVII 

OUR    HOUSE 

THERE  are  certain  characteristic  words  which  the  human 
heart  loves  to  conjure  with,  and  one  of  the  strongest  among 
them  is  the  phrase,  "Our  House."  It  is  not  my  house, 
nor  your  house,  nor  their  house,  but  Our  House.  It  is 
the  inseparable  we  who  own  it,  and  it  is  the  we  and  the 
our  that  go  a  long  way  towards  impregnating  it  with  the 
charm  that  makes  it  the  symbol  of  things  most  blessed  and 
eternal. 

Houses  have  their  physiognomy,  as  much  as  persons. 
There  are  commonplace  houses,  suggestive  houses,  attrac 
tive  houses,  mysterious  houses,  and  fascinating  houses,  just 
as  there  are  all  these  classes  of  persons.  There  are  houses 
whose  windows  seem  to  yawn  idly  —  to  stare  vacantly  — 
there  are  houses  whose  windows  glower  weirdly,  and  look 
at  you  askance;  there  are  houses,  again,  whose  very  doors 
and  windows  seem  wide  open  with  frank  cordiality,  which 
seem  to  stretch  their  arms  to  embrace  you,  and  woo  you 
kindly  to  come  and  possess  them. 

My  wife  and  I,  as  we  put  our  key  into  the  door  and  let 
ourselves  into  the  deserted  dwelling,  now  all  our  own,  said 
to  each  other  at  once  that  it  was  a  home-like  house.  It 
was  built  in  the  old  style,  when  they  had  solid  timbers  and 
low  ceilings,  with  great  beams  and  large  windows,  with 
old-fashioned  small  panes  of  glass,  but  there  was  about  it  a 
sort  of  homely  individuality,  and  suggestive  of  cosy  com 
forts.  The  front  room  had  an  ancient  fireplace,  with 
quaint  Dutch  tiles  around  it.  The  Ferguses  had  intro- 


OUR   HOUSE  471 

duced  a  furnace,  gas,  and  water  into  it;  but  the  fireplace 
in  most  of  the  rooms  still  remained,  suggestive  of  the  old 
days  in  Xew  York  when  wood  was  plenty  and  cheap.  One 
could  almost  fancy  that  those  days  of  roaring  family  hearths 
had  so  heartened  up  the  old  chimneys  that  a  portion  of  the 
ancient  warmth  yet  inhered  in  the  house. 

"There,  Harry,"  said  my  wife,  exultantly  pointing  to 
the  fireplace,  "see:  this  is  the  very  thing  that  your 
mother's  brass  andirons  will  fit  into  —  how  charmingly 
they  will  go  with  it !  " 

And  then  those  bright,  sunny  windows,  and  that  bay- 
window  looking  across  upon  those  trees  was  perfectly 
lovely.  In  fact,  the  leaves  of  the  trees  shimmering  in 
October  light  cast  reflections  into  the  room  suggestive  of 
country  life,  which,  fresh  from  the  country  as  we  were, 
was  an  added  charm. 

The  rooms  were  very  low  studded,  scarcely  nine  feet  in 
height  —  and,  by  the  bye,  I  believe  that  that  feature  in  old 
English  and  Dutch  house-building  is  one  that  greatly  con 
duces  to  give  an  air  of  comfort.  A  low  ceiling  insures  ease 
in  warming,  and  in  our  climate,  where  one  has  to  depend 
on  fires  for  nine  months  in  the  year,  this  is  something 
worth  while.  In  general,  I  have  noticed  in  rooms  that 
the  sense  of  snugness  and  comfort  dies  out  as  the  ceiling 
rises  in  height  —  rooms  twelve  and  fifteen  feet  high  may 
be  all  very  grand  and  very  fine,  but  they  are  never  sociable, 
they  never  seem  to  brood  over  you,  soothe  you,  and  take 
you  to  their  heart  as  the  motherly  low-browed  room  does. 

My  wife  ran  all  over  her  new  dominions  —  exploring 
and  planning,  telling  me  volubly  how  she  would  arrange 
them.  The  woman  was  Queen  here;  her  foot  was  on  her 
native  heath,  and  she  saw  capabilities  and  possibilities  with 
the  eye  of  an  artist. 

Now,  I  desire  it  to  be  understood  that  I  am  not  indiffer 
ent  to  the  charms  of  going  to  housekeeping  full-handed. 


472  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  my  wife  and  I  should  not  have 
enjoyed  opening  our  family  reign  in  a  stone  palace,  over 
looking  New  York  Central  Park,  with  all  the  charms  of 
city  and  country  life  united,  with  all  the  upholsterers  and 
furniture  shops  in  New  York  at  our  feet.  All  this  was 
none  too  good  for  our  taste  if  we  could  have  had  it,  but 
since  we  could  not  have  it,  we  took  another  kind  of  delight, 
and  one  quite  as  vivid,  in  seeing  how  charmingly  we  could 
get  on  without  it.  In  fact,  I  think  there  is  an  exultation 
in  the  constant  victory  over  circumstances,  in  little  inven 
tions,  substitutions,  and  combinations,  rendered  necessary 
by  limited  means,  which  is  wanting  to  those  to  whose  hand 
everything  comes  without  an  effort. 

If,  for  example,  the  brisk  pair  of  robins,  who  have  built 
in  the  elm-tree  opposite  to  our  bay-window,  had  had  a 
nest  all  made,  and  lined,  and  provided  for  them  to  go  into, 
what  an  amount  of  tweedle  and  chipper,  what  a  quantity 
of  fluttering,  and  soaring,  and  singing  would  have  been 
wanting  to  the  commencement  of  their  housekeeping !  All 
those  pretty  little  conversations  with  the  sticks  and  straw, 
all  that  brave  work  in  tugging  at  a  bit  of  twine  and  thread, 
which  finally  are  carried  off  in  triumph  and  wrought  into 
the  nest,  would  be  a  loss  in  nature.  How  much  adventure 
and  enterprise,  how  many  little  heart-beats  of  joy  go  into 
one  robin's  nest  simply  because  Mother  Nature  makes  them 
work  it  out  for  themselves ! 

We  spent  a  cheerful  morning  merely  in  running  over  our 
house,  and  telling  each  other  what  we  could  do  with  it, 
and  congratulating  each  other  that  it  was  "  such  a  bargain, " 
for,  look,  here  is  an  outlook  upon  trees;  and  here  is  a 
little  back  yard,  considerably  larger  than  a  good-sized 
pocket-handkerchief,  where  Mrs.  Fergus  had  raised  mignon 
ette,  heliotropes,  and  roses  and  geraniums  enough  to  have 
a  fresh  morning  bouquet  of  them  daily;  and  an  ancient 
grape-vine  planted  by  some  old  Knickerbocker,  which  Jack 


OUR   HOUSE  473 

Fergus  had  trained  in  a  sort  of  arbor  over  the  dining-room 
window,  and  which  at  this  present  moment  was  hanging 
with  purple  clusters  of  grapes.  We  ate  of  them,  and  felt 
like  Adam  and  Eve  in  Paradise.  What  was  it  to  us  that 
this  little  Eden  of  ours  was  in  an  unfashionable  quarter, 
and  that,  as  Aunt  Maria  would  say,  there  was  not  a  crea 
ture  living  within  miles  of  us,  it  was  still  our  mystical 
"garden  which  the  Lord  God  had  planted  eastward  in 
Eden."  The  purchase  of  it,  it  is  true,  had  absorbed  all 
my  wife's  little  fortune,  and  laid  a  debt  upon  us  —  but  we 
told  each  other  that  it  was,  after  all,  our  cheapest  way  of 
renting  a  foothold  in  New  York.  "For,  you  see,"  said 
my  wife  instructively,  "  papa  says  it  is  a  safe  investment, 
as  it  is  sure  to  rise  in  value,  so  that  even  if  we  want  to 
sell  it  we  can  get  more  than  we  paid." 

"What  a  shrewd  little  trader  you  are  getting  to  be!"  I 
said,  admiring  this  profound  financial  view. 

"Oh,  indeed  I  am;  and,  now,  Harry  dear,  don't  let's 
go  to  any  expense  about  furniture  till  I  've  shown  you  what 
I  intend  to  do.  I  know  devices  for  giving  a  room  an  air 
with  so  little;  for  example,  look  at  this  recess.  I  shall 
fill  this  up  with  a  divan  that  I  shall  get  up  for  nine  or  ten 
dollars." 

"You  get  it  up!" 

"Yes,  I  —  with  Mary  to  help  me  —  you'll  see  in  time. 
We  '11  have  all  the  comfort  that  could  be  got  out  of  a  sofa, 
for  which  people  pay  eighty  or  ninety  dollars,  and  the 
eighty  or  ninety  dollars  will  go  to  get  other  things,  you 
see.  And  then  we  must  have  a  stuffed  seat  running  round 
this  bay-window.  I  can  get  that  up.  I  've  seen  at  Stew 
art's  such  a  lovely  piece  of  patch,  with  broad  crimson 
stripes,  and  a  sort  of  mauresque  figure  interposed.  I  think 
we  had  better  get  the  whole  of  it,  and  that  will  do  for  one 
whole  room.  Let 's  see.  I  shall  make  lambrequins  for 
the  windows,  and  cover  the  window-seats,  and  then  we 


474  MY   WIFE   AND    I 

shall  have  only  to  buy  two  or  three  great  stuffed  chairs  and 
cover  them  with  the  same.  Oh,  you  '11  see  what  I  '11  do. 
I  shall  make  this  house  so  comfortable  and  charming  that 
people  will  wonder  to  see  it." 

"Well,  darling,  I  give  all  that  up  to  you;  that  is  your 
dominion,  your  reign." 

"To  be  sure,  you  have  all  your  work  up  at  the  office 
there,  and  your  articles  to  write,  and  besides,  dear,  with 
all  your  genius,  and  all  that,  you  really  don't  know  much 
about  this  sort  of  thing,  so  give  yourself  no  trouble,  I  Jll 
attend  to  it  —  it  is  my  ground,  you  know.  Now,  I  don't 
mean  mother  or  Aunt  Maria  shall  come  down  here  till  we 
have  got  everything  arranged.  Alice  is  going  to  come  and 
stay  with  me  and  help,  and  when  I  want  you  I  '11  call  on 
you,  for,  though  I  am  not  a  writing  genius,  I  am  a  genius 
in  these  matters,  as  you  '11  see." 

"You  are  a  veritable  household  fairy,"  said  I,  "and  this 
house,  henceforth,  lies  on  the  borders  of  the  fairy  land. 
Troops  of  gay  and  joyous  spirits  are  flocking  to  take  posses 
sion  of  it,  and  their  little  hands  will  carry  forward  what 
you  begin." 


CHAPTEE   XLVIII 

PICNICKING    IN    NEW    YORK 

OUR  house  seemed  so  far  to  be  ours  that  it  was  appar 
ently  regarded  by  the  firm  of  good  fellows  as  much  their 
affair  as  mine.  The  visits  of  Jim  and  Bolton  to  our  quar 
ters  were  daily,  and  sometimes  even  hourly.  They  coun 
seled,  advised,  theorized,  and  admired  my  wife's  generalship 
in  an  artless  solidarity  with  myself.  Jim  was  omnipresent. 
Now  he  would  be  seen  in  his  shirt-sleeves  nailing  down  a 
carpet,  or  unpacking  a  barrel,  and  again  making  good  the 
time  lost  in  these  operations  by  scribbling  his  articles  on 
the  top  of  some  packing- box,  dodging  in  and  out  at  all 
hours  with  news  of  discoveries  of  possible  bargains  that  he 
had  hit  upon  in  his  rambles. 

For  a  while  we  merely  bivouacked  in  the  house,  as  of 
old  the  pilgrims  in  a  caravansary,  or  as  a  picnic  party  might 
do,  out  under  a  tree.  The  house  itself  was  in  a  state  of 
growth  and  construction,  and,  meanwhile,  the  work  of  eat 
ing  and  drinking  was  performed  in  moments  snatched  in 
the  most  pastoral  freedom  and  simplicity.  I  must  confess 
that  there  was  a  joyous,  rollicking  freedom  about  these 
times  that  was  lost  in  the  precision  of  regular  housekeepers. 
When  we  all  gathered  about  Mary's  cooking- stove  in  the 
kitchen,  eating  roast  oysters  and  bread  and  butter,  without 
troubling  ourselves  about  table  equipage,  we  seemed  to 
come  closer  to  each  other  than  we  could  in  months  of  or 
derly  housekeeping. 

Our  cooking-stove  was  Bolton' s  especial  protege  and  pet. 
He  had  studied  the  subject  of  stoves,  for  our  sakes,  with 


476  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

praiseworthy  perseverance,  and  after  philosophic  investiga 
tion  had  persuaded  us  to  buy  this  one,  and  of  course  had 
a  fatherly  interest  in  its  well-doing.  I  have  the  image  of 
him  now  as  he  sat,  seriously,  with  the  book  of  directions 
in  his  hand,  reading  and  explaining  to  us  all,  while  a  set 
of  muffins  were  going  through  the  experimentum  crucis 
—  the  oven.  The  muffins  were  excellent,  and  we  ate  them 
hot  out  of  the  oven  with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart, 
and  agreed  that  we  had  touched  the  absolute  in  the  matter 
of  cooking-stoves.  All  my  wife's  plans  and  achievements, 
all  her  bargains  and  successes,  were  reported  and  admired 
in  full  conclave,  when  we  all  looked  in  at  night,  and  took 
our  snack  together  in  the  kitchen. 

One  of  my  wife's  enterprises  was  the  regeneration  of  the 
dining-room.  It  had  a  pretty  window  draped  pleasantly 
by  the  grape-vine,  but  it  had  a  dreadfully  common  wall 
paper,  a  paper  that  evidently  had  been  chosen  for  no  other 
reason  than  because  it  was  cheap.  It  had  moreover  a 
wainscot  of  dark  wood  running  round  the  side,  so  that 
what  with  our  low  ceiling,  the  portion  covered  by  this 
offending  paper  was  only  four  feet  and  a  half  wide. 

I  confess,  in  the  multitude  of  things  on  hand  in  the 
work  of  reconstruction,  I  was  rather  disposed  to  put  up 
with  the  old  paper  as  the  best  under  the  circumstances. 

"My  dear,"  said  I,  "why  not  let  pretty  well  alone?  " 

"  My  darling  child !  "  said  my  wife,  "  it  is  impossible  — 
that  paper  is  a  horror." 

"It  certainly  isn't  pretty,  but  who  cares?"  said  I.  "I 
don't  see  so  very  much  the  matter  with  it,  and  you  are 
undertaking  so  much  that  you  '11  be  worn  out." 

"It  will  wear  me  out  to  have  that  paper,  so  now,  Harry 
dear,  be  a  good  boy,  and  do  just  what  I  tell  you.  Go  to 
Berthold  &  Capstick's  and  bring  me  one  roll  of  plain  black 
paper,  and  six  or  eight  of  plain  crimson,  and  wait  then  to 
see  what  I '11  do." 


PICNICKING  IN   NEW   YORK  477 

The  result  on  a  certain  day  after  was  that  I  found  my 
dining-room  transformed  into  a  Pompeiian  salon,  by  the 
busy  fingers  of  the  house  fairies. 

The  ground-work  was  crimson,  but  there  was  a  series  of 
black  panels,  in  each  of  which  was  one  of  those  floating 
Pompeiian  figures  which  the  traveler  in  Italy  buys  for  a 
trifle  in  Naples. 

"There  now,"  said  my  wife,  "do  you  remember  my 
portfolio  of  cheap  Neapolitan  prints'?  Haven't  I  made 
good  use  of  them  ?  " 

"You  are  a  witch,"  said  I.  "You  certainly  can't  paper 
walls." 

"Can't  I!  haven't  I  as  many  fingers  as  your  mother? 
and  she  has  done  it  time  and  again;  and  this  is  such  a 
crumb  of  a  wall.  Alice  and  Jim  and  I  did  it  to-day,  and 
have  had  real  fun  over  it." 

"Jim?"  said  I,  looking  amused. 

"Jim!"  said  my  wife,  nodding  with  a  significant  laugh. 

"Seems  to  me,"  said  I. 

"So  it  seems  to  me,"  said  she.  After  a  pause  she 
added,  with  a  smile,  "But  the  creature  is  both  entertaining 
and  useful.  We  have  had  the  greatest  kind  of  a  frolic 
over  this  wall." 

"But,  really,"  said  I,  "this  case  of  Jim  and  Alice  is 
getting  serious." 

"Don't  say  a  word,"  said  my  wife,  laughing.  "They 
are  in  the  F's;  they  have  got  out  of  Flirtation  and  into 
Friendship. " 

"And  friendship  between  a  girl  like  Alice  and  a  young 
man,  on  his  part  soon  gets  to  mean  "  — 

"Oh,  well,  let  it  get  to  mean  what  it  will,"  said  my 
wrife;  "they  are  having  nice  times  now,  and  the  best  of  it 
is,  nobody  sees  anything  but  you  and  I.  Nobody  bothers 
Alice,  or  asks  her  if  she  is  engaged,  and  she  is  careful  to 
inform  me  that  she  regards  Jim  quite  as  a  brother.  You 


478  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

see  that  is  one  advantage  of  our  living  where  nobody 
knows  us  —  we  can  all  do  just  as  we  like.  This  little 
house  is  Robinson  Crusoe's  island  —  in  the  middle  of  New 
York.  But  now,  Harry,  there  is  one  thing  you  must  do 
toward  this  room.  There  must  be  a  little  gilt  moulding  to 
finish  off  the  top  and  sides.  You  just  go  to  Berthold  & 
Capstick's  and  get  it.  See,  here  are  the  figures, "  she  said, 
showing  her  memorandum-book.  "We  shall  want  just 
that  much." 

"  But  can  we  put  it  up  1 " 

"Xo,  but  you  just  speak  to  little  Tim  Brady,  who  is  a 
clerk  there  —  Tim  used  to  be  a  boy  in  father's  office  —  he 
will  like  nothing  better  than  to  come  and  put  it  up  for  us, 
and  then  we  shall  be  fine  as  a  new  fiddle." 

And  so,  while  I  was  driving  under  a  great  pressure  of 
business  at  the  office  daily,  my  home  was  growing  leaf  by 
leaf,  and  unfolding  flower  by  flower,  under  the  creative 
hands  of  my  home-queen  and  sovereign  lady. 

Time  would  fail  me  to  relate  the  enterprises  conceived, 
carried  out,  and  prosperously  finished  under  her  hands.  In 
deed,  I  came  to  have  such  a  reverential  belief  in  her  power 
that  had  she  announced  that  she  intended  to  take  my  house 
up  bodily  and  set  it  down  in  Japan,  in  the  true  "Arabian 
Nights  "  style,  I  should  not  in  the  least  have  doubted  her 
ability  to  do  it.  The  house  was  as  much  an  expression  of 
my  wife's  personality,  a  thing  wrought  out  of  her  being, 
as  any  picture  painted  by  an  artist. 

Many  homes  have  no  personality.  They  are  made  by 
the  upholsterers;  the  things  in  them  express  the  tastes  of 
David  &  Saul,  or  Berthold  &  Capstick,  or  whoever  else 
of  artificers  undertake  the  getting  up  of  houses.  But  our 
house  formed  itself  around  my  wife  like  the  pearly  shell 
around  the  nautilus.  My  home  was  Eva,  —  she  the  schem 
ing,  the  busy,  the  creative,  was  the  life,  soul,  and  spirit 
of  all  that  was  there. 


PICNICKING  IN   NEW  YORK  479 

Is  not  this  a  species  of  high  art,  by  which  a  house,  in 
itself  cold  and  barren,  becomes  in  every  part  warm  and  in 
viting,  glowing  with  suggestion,  alive  with  human  tastes 
and  personalities?  Wall-paper,  paint,  furniture,  pictures, 
in  the  hands  of  the  home  artist,  are  like  the  tubes  of  paint 
out  of  which  arises,  as  by  inspiration,  a  picture.  It  is  the 
woman  who  combines  them  into  the  wonderful  creation 
which  we  call  a  home. 

When  I  came  home  from  my  office  night  after  night, 
and  was  led  in  triumph  by  Eva  to  view  the  result  of  her 
achievements,  I  confess  I  began  to  remember  with  approba 
tion  the  old  Greek  mythology,  and  no  longer  to  wonder 
that  divine  honors  had  been  paid  to  household  goddesses. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  she  had  a  portion  of  the  talent  of 
creating  out  of  nothing.  Our  house  had  literally  nothing 
in  it  of  the  stereotyped  sets  of  articles  expected  as  a  matter 
of  course  in  good  families,  and  yet  it  looked  cosy,  comfort 
able,  inviting,  and  with  everywhere  a  suggestion  of  ideal 
tastes,  and  an  eye  to  beauty.  There  were  chambers  which 
seemed  to  be  built  out  of  drapery  and  muslins,  every  detail 
of  which,  when  explained,  was  a  marvel  of  results  at  small 
expense.  My  wife  had  an  aptitude  for  bargains,  and  when 
a  certain  article  was  wanted,  supplied  it  from  some  second 
hand  store  with  such  an  admirable  adaptation  to  the  place 
that  it  was  difficult  to  persuade  ourselves  after  a  few  days 
that  it  had  not  always  been  exactly  there,  where  now  it 
was  so  perfectly  adapted  to  be. 

In  fact,  her  excursions  into  the  great  sea  of  New  York 
and  the  spoils  she  brought  thence  to  enrich  our  bower 
reminded  me  of  the  process  by  which  Eobinson  Crusoe 
furnished  his  island  home  by  repeated  visits  to  the  old  ship 
which  was  going  to  wreck  on  the  shore.  From  the  wreck 
of  other  homes  came  floating  to  ours  household  belongings, 
which  we  landed  reverently  and  baptized  into  the  fellow 
ship  of  our  own. 


CHAPTER   XLIX 

NEIGHBORS 

"Do  you  know,  Harry,"  said  my  wife  to  me  one  even 
ing  when  I  came  home  to  dinner,  "I  have  made  a  discov 
ery?  » 

Now,  the  truth  was,  that  my  wife  was  one  of  those 
lively,  busy,  active,  enterprising  little  women,  who  are 
always  making  incident  for  themselves  and  their  friends; 
and  it  was  a  regular  part  of  my  anticipation,  as  I  plodded 
home  from  my  office,  tired  and  work-worn,  to  conjecture 
what  new  thing  Eva  would  find  to  tell  me  that  night. 
What  had  she  done,  or  altered,  or  made  up,  or  arranged, 
as  she  always  met  me  full  of  her  subject? 

"Well,"  said  I,  "what  is  this  great  discovery?" 

"My  dear,  I  '11  tell  you.  One  of  those  dumb  houses  in 
our  neighborhood  has  suddenly  become  alive  to  me.  I  've 
made  an  acquaintance." 

Now,  I  knew  that  my  wife  was  just  that  social,  convers 
ing,  conversable  creature  that,  had  she  been  in  Robinson 
Crusoe's  island,  would  have  struck  up  confidential  relations 
with  the  monkeys  and  paroquets,  rather  than  not  have 
somebody  to  talk  to.  Therefore,  I  was  not  in  the  least 
surprised,  but  quite  amused,  to  find  that  she  had  begun 
neighboring  in  our  vicinity. 

"You  don't  tell  me,"  said  I,  "that  you  have  begun  to 
cultivate  acquaintances  on  this  street,  so  far  from  the  cen 
tres  of  fashion  ?  " 

"Well,  I  have,  and  found  quite  a  treasure,  in  at  the 
very  next  door." 


NEIGHBORS  481 

"And  pray  now,  for  curiosity's  sake,  how  did  you  man 
age  it?" 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  Harry,  I'm  the  worst  person 
in  the  world  for  keeping  up  what 's  called  select  society; 
and  I  never  could  hear  the  feeling  of  not  knowing  anything 
ahout  anybody  that  lives  next  to  me.  Why,  suppose  we 
should  be  sick  in  the  night,  or  anything  happen,  and  we 
not  have  a  creature  to  speak  to !  It  seems  dreary  to  think 
of  it.  So  I  was  curious  to  know  who  lived  next  door; 
and  I  looked  down  from  our  chamber  window  into  the  next 
back  yard,  and  saw  that  whoever  it  was  had  a  right  cunning 
little  garden,  with  nasturtiums  and  geraniums,  and  chrysan 
themums,  and  all  sorts  of  pretty  things.  Well,  this  morn 
ing  I  saw  the  sweetest  little  dove  of  a  Quaker  woman,  in 
a  gray  dress,  with  a  pressed  crape  cap,  moving  about  as 
quiet  as  a  chip  sparrow  among  the  flowers.  And  I  took 
quite  a  fancy  to  her,  and  began  to  think  how  I  should 
make  her  acquaintance.7' 

"If  that  isn't  just  like  you! "  said  I.  "Well,  did  you 
run  in  and  fall  on  her  neck  1  " 

"Not  exactly.  But,  you  see,  we  had  all  our  windows 
open  to  air  the  rooms,  and  my  very  best  pocket-handker 
chief  lay  on  the  bureau.  And  the  wind  took  it  up,  and 
whirled  it  about,  and  finally  carried  it  down  into  that  back 
yard ;  and  it  lit  on  her  geranium  bush.  '  There,  now, ' 
said  I  to  Alice,  '  there  's  a  providential  opening.  I  'm  just 
going  to  run  right  down  and  inquire  about  my  pocket-hand 
kerchief. '  Which  I  did:  I  just  stepped  off"  from  our  stoop 
on  to  her  door-step,  and  rang  the  bell.  Meanwhile,  I  saw, 
on  a  nice,  shining  door-plate,  that  the  name  was  Baxter. 
Well,  who  should  open  the  door  but  the  brown  dove  in 
person,  looking  just  as  pretty  as  a  pink  in  her  cap  and  drab 
gown.  I  declare,  Harry,  I  told  Alice  I  'd  a  great  mind  to 
adopt  the  Quaker  costume  right  away.  It 's  a  great  deal 
more  becoming  than  all  our  finery." 


482  MY  WIFE  AND   I 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  I,  "that  introduces  a  large  sub 
ject;  and  I  want  to  hear  what  came  next." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  spoke  up,  and  said,  '  Dear  Mrs.  Baxter, 
pray  excuse  me;  but  I  've  been  so  very  careless  as  to  lose 
my  handkerchief  down  in  your  back  yard. '  You  ought  to 
have  seen  the  pretty  pink  color  rise  in  her  cheeks ;  and  she 
said  in  such  a  cunning  way,  '  I  '11  get  it  for  thee ! ' 

"  '  Oh,  dear,  no,'  said  I,  '  don't  trouble  yourself.  Please 
let  me  go  out  into  your  pretty  little  garden  there. ' 

"Well,  the  upshot  was,  we  went  into  the  garden  and 
had  a  long  chat  about  the  flowers.  And  she  picked  me 
quite  a  bouquet  of  geraniums.  And  then  I  told  her  all 
about  our  little  garden,  and  how  I  wanted  to  make  things 
grow  in  it,  and  didn't  know  how;  and  asked1  her  if  she 
wouldn't  teach  me.  Well,  then,  she  took  me  into  the 
nicest  little  drab  nest  of  a  parlor  that  ever  you  saw.  The 
carpet  was  drab,  and  the  curtains  were  drab,  and  the  sofas 
and  chairs  were  all  covered  with  drab;  but  the  windows 
were  perfectly  blazing  with  flowers.  She  had  most  gor 
geous  nasturtium  vines  trained  all  around  the  windows,  and 
scarlet  geraniums  that  would  really  make  your  eyes  wink  to 
look  at  them.  I  could  n't  help  laughing  a  little  to  myself, 
that  they  make  it  a  part  of  their  religion  not  to  have  any 
color,  and  then  fall  back  upon  all  these  high-colored  opera 
tions  of  the  Lord  by  way  of  brightening  up  their  houses. 
However,  I  got  a  great  deal  of  instruction  out  of  her,  and 
she  's  going  to  come  in  and  show  me  how  to  arrange  my 
ferns  and  other  things  I  gathered  in  the  country,  in  a 
Ward's  case;  and  she's  going  to  show  me,  too,  how  to 
plant  an  ivy,  so  as  to  have  it  grow  all  around  this  bay-win 
dow.  The  inside  of  hers  is  a  perfect  bower." 

"I  perceive,"  said  I,  "the  result  of  all  was  that  you 
swore  eternal  friendship  on  the  spot,  just  like  the  Eva  that 
you  are." 

"Precisely." 


NEIGHBORS  483 

"And  you  didn't  have  the  fear  of  your  gentility  before 
your  eyes  1 " 

"Not  a  bit.      I  always  have  detested  gentility." 

"You  don't  even  know  the  business  of  her  husband." 

"But  I  do,  though.  He  's  a  watchmaker,  and  works  for 
Tiffany  &  Co.  I  know,  because  she  showed  me  a  curious 
little  clock  of  his  construction;  and  these  things  came  out 
in  a  parenthesis,  you  see." 

"I  see  the  hopeless  degradation  which  this  will  imply 
in  Aunt  Maria's  eyes,"  said  I. 

"A  fig  for  Aunt  Maria,  and  a  fig  for  the  world!  I'm 
married  now,  and  can  do  as  I  've  a  mind  to.  Besides,  you 
know  Quakers  are  not  world's  people.  They  have  come 
out  from  it,  and  don't  belong  to  it.  There  's  something 
really  refreshing  about  this  dear  little  body,  with  her 
*  thees  '  and  her  *  thous  '  and  her  nice  little  wrays.  And 
they  're  young  married  people,  just  like  us.  She  's  been 
in  this  house  only  a  year.  But,  Harry,  she  knows  every 
body  on  the  street,  —  not  in  a  worldly  way,  but  in  the  way 
of  her  sect.  She  's  made  a  visitation  of  Christian  love  to 
every  one  of  them.  Now,  isn't  that  pretty?  She  's  been 
to  see  what  she  could  do  for  them,  and  to  offer  friendship 
and  kind  offices.  Isn't  that  sort  of  Arcadian,  now?" 

"  Well,  and  what  does  she  tell  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  there  are  a  great  many  interesting  people  on  this 
street.  I  can't  tell  you  all  about  it  now,  but  some  that 
I  think  we  must  try  to  get  acquainted  with.  In  the  third 
story  of  that  house  opposite  to  us  is  a  poor  French  gentle 
man,  who  came  to  New  York  a  political  refugee,  hoping  to 
give  lessons;  but  has  no  faculty  for  getting  along,  and  his 
wife,  a  delicate  little  woman  with  a  baby,  and  they  're 
very,  very  poor.  I  'm  going  with  her  to  visit  them  some 
time  this  week.  It  seems  this  dear  little  Ruth  was  with 
her  when  her  baby  was  born,  —  this  dear  little  Ruth !  It 
struck  me  so  curiously  to  see  how  interesting  she  thinks 
everybody  on  this  street  is." 


484  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Simply,"  said  I,  "because  she  looks  at  them  from  the 
Christian  standpoint.  Well,  dear,  I  can't  but  think  your 
new  acquaintance  is  an  acquisition." 

"And  only  think,  Harry,  this  nice  little  person  is  one 
of  the  people  that  Aunt  Maria  calls  nobody;  not  rich,  not 
fashionable,  not  of  the  world,  in  short;  but  just  as  sweet 
and  lovely  and  refined  as  she  can  be.  I  think  those  plain, 
sincere  manners  are  so  charming.  It  makes  you  feel  so  very 
near  to  people  to  have  them  call  you  by  your  Christian 
name  right  away.  She  calls  me  Eva  and  I  call  her  Ruth; 
and  I  feel  somehow  as  if  I  must  always  have  known  her." 

"I  want  to  see  her,"  said  I. 

"You  must.  It  '11  amuse  you  to  have  her  look  at  you 
with  her  grave,  quiet  eyes,  and  call  you  Harry  Henderson. 
What  an  effect  it  has  to  hear  one's  simple,  common  name, 
without  fuss  or  title !  " 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "I  remember  how  long  I  called  you  Eva 
in  my  heart,  while  I  was  addressing  you  at  arm's  length  as 
Miss  Van  Arsdel." 

"It  was  in  the  Park,  Harry,  that  we  lost  the  Mr.  and 
Miss,  never  to  find  them  again." 

"I've  often  thought  it  strange,"  said  I,  "how  these  un 
worldly  modes  of  speaking  among  the  Quakers  seem  to  have 
with  them  a  certain  dignity.  It  would  be  an  offense,  a 
piece  of  vulgar  forwardness,  in  most  people  to  address  you 
by  your  Christian  name.  But,  with  them  it  seems  to  be 
an  attempt  at  realizing  a  certain  ideal  of  Christian  simpli 
city  and  sincerity,  which  one  almost  loses  sight  of  in  the 
conventional  course  of  life." 

"I  was  very  much  amused,"  said  my  wife,  "at  her  tell 
ing  me  of  one  of  her  visits  of  Christian  love  to  a  Jew 
family,  living  on  this  street.  And  really,  Harry,  she  has 
learned  an  amount  of  good  about  the  Jews,  from  cultivat 
ing  an  intimacy  with  this  family,  that  is  quite  astonish 
ing.  I  'd  no  idea  how  good  the  Jews  were." 


NEIGHBORS  485 

"Well,  my  little  High  Church  darling,"  said  I,  "you  're 
in  a  fair  way  to  become  ultra-liberal,  and  to  find  that  what 
you  call  the  Church  doesn't  come  anywhere  near  represent 
ing  the  whole  multitude  of  the  elect  in  this  world.  I  com 
fort  myself  with  thinking,  all  the  time,  how  much  more 
good  there  is  in  the  world  and  in  human  nature  than  ap 
pears  on  the  surface." 

"And,  now,  Harry,  that  you  and  I  have  this  home  of 
our  own,  we  can  do  some  of  those  things  with  it  that  our 
friends  next  door  seem  to  be  doing.  I  thought  we  might 
stir  about  and  see  if  we  couldn't  get  up  a  class  for  this 
poor  Frenchman,  and  I  'm  going  to  call  on  his  wife.  In 
fact,  Harry,  I  've  been  thinking  that  it  must  be  one's  own 
fault  if  one  has  no  friends  in  one's  neighborhood.  I  can't 
believe  in  living  on  a  street,  and  never  knowing  or  caring 
whether  your  next-door  neighbor  is  sick  or  dead,  simply 
because  you  belong  to  a  circle  up  at  the  other  end  of  the 
city." 

"Well,  dear,  you  know  that  I  am  a  democrat  by  nature. 
But  I  am  delighted  to  have  you  make  these  discoveries  for 
yourself.  It  was  bad  enough,  in  the  view  of  your  friends, 
I  presume,  for  me  to  have  come  between  you  and  a  fashion 
able  establishment,  and  a  palace  on  the  Park,  without  being 
guilty  of  introducing  you  into  such  very  mixed  society  as 
the  course  that  you  're  falling  into  seems  to  promise.  But 
wherever  you  go  I  '11  follow." 


CHAPTEE   L 

MY    WIFE    PROJECTS    HOSPITALITIES 

"MY  dear,"  said  my  wife  to  me  at  breakfast,  "our  house 
is  about  done.  To  be  sure  there  are  ever  so  many  little 
niceties  that  I  haven't  got  at  yet,  but  it 's  pretty  enough 
now.  So  that  I  'm  not  at  all  ashamed  to  show  it  to  mamma 
or  Aunt  Maria,  or  any  of  them." 

"Do  you  think,"  said  I,  "that  last-named  respectable 
individual  could  possibly  think  of  countenancing  us,  when 
we  have  only  an  ingrain  carpet  on  our  parlor  and  nothing 
but  mattings  on  the  chambers,  and  live  down  here  where 
nobody  lives  1  " 

"Well,  poor  soul!  "  said  Eva,  "she  '11  have  to  accept  it 
as  one  of  the  trials  of  life,  and  have  recourse  to  the  conso 
lations  of  religion.  Then,  after  all,  Harry,  I  really  am 
proud  of  our  parlor.  Of  course,  we  've  had  the  good  luck 
to  have  a  good  many  handsome  ornaments  given  to  us;  so 
that,  though  we  have  n't  the  regulation  things  that  people 
generally  get,  it  does  look  very  bright  and  pretty." 

"It's  perfectly  lovely,"  said  I.  "Our  house  to  me  is 
a  perfect  dream  of  loveliness.  I  think  of  it  all  day  from 
time  to  time  when  I  'm  at  work  in  my  office,  and  am 
always  wanting  to  come  home  and  see  it  again,  and  have 
a  little  curiosity  to  know  what  new  thing  you  've  accom 
plished.  So  far,  your  career  has  been  a  daily  succession 
of  triumphs,  and  the  best  of  it  is  that  it 's  all  so  much  like 
you." 

"So,"  said  she,  "that  I  can't  be  jealous  at  your  loving 
the  house  so  much.  I  suppose  you  think  it  as  much  a 


MY   WIFE   PROJECTS   HOSPITALITIES  487 

part  of  me  as  the  shell  on  a  turtle's  back.  Well,  now, 
before  we  invite  mother  and  Aunt  Maria,  and  all  the  folks 
down  here,  I  propose  that  we  have  just  a  nice  little  house- 
warming,  with  our  own  little  private  particular  set,  who 
know  how  to  appreciate  us." 

"  Agreed ! "  said  I ;  "  Bolton,  and  Jim,  and  Alice,  and 
you,  and  I  will  have  a  commemoration-dinner  together. 
Our  fellows,  you  see,  seem  to  feel  as  much  interested  in 
this  house  as  if  it  were  their  own." 

"I  know  it,"  said  she.  "Isn't  it  really  amusing  to  see 
the  grandfatherly  concern  that  Bolton  has  for  our  cooking- 
stove  ? " 

"Oh!  Bolton  has  staked  his  character  on  that  stove,"  I 
said.  "Its  success  is  quite  a  personal  matter  now." 

"Well,  it  does  bake  admirably,"  said  my  wife,  "and  I 
think  our  dinner  will  be  a  perfect  success,  so  far  as  that  is 
concerned.  And,  do  you  know,  I  'm  going  to  introduce 
that  new  way  of  doing  up  cold  chicken  which  I  've  in 
vented." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "we  shall  christen  it  Chicken  a  la  Eva." 

"And  I've  been  talking  with  our  Mary  about  it,  and 
she  's  quite  in  the  spirit  of  the  affair.  You  see,  like 
all  Irishwomen,  Mary  perfectly  worships  the  boys,  and 
thinks  there  never  was  anybody  like  Mr.  Bolton  and  Mr. 
Jim;  and,  of  course,  it's  quite  a  labor  of  love  with  her. 
Then  I  've  been  giving  her  little  cub  there  a  series  of  les 
sons  to  enable  her  to  wait  on  table;  and  she  is  all  exercised 
with  the  prospect." 

"Why,"  said  I,  "the  little  flibberty-gibbet  is  hardly  as 
high  as  the  table." 

"Oh,  never  say  that  before  her.  She  feels  very  high 
indeed  in  the  world,  and  is  impressed  with  the  awful  grav 
ity  and  responsibility  of  being  eight  years  old.  I  have 
made  her  a  white  apron  with  pockets,  in  which  her  soul 
delights;  and  her  mother  has  starched  and  ironed  it  till  it 


488  MY    WIFE   AND   I 

shines  with  whiteness.  And  she  is  learning  to  brush  the 
table-cloth,  and  change  plates  in  the  most  charming  way, 
and  with  a  gravity  that  is  quite  overcoming." 

"  Capital !  "  said  I.      "  And  when  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"To-morrow  night." 

"Agreed!  I'll  tell  the  fellows  this  is  to  be  a  regular 
blow-out,  and  we  must  do  our  very  prettiest,  which  is  very 
pretty  indeed,"  said  I,  "thanks  to  the  contributions  of  our 
numerous  friends.  For  my  part,  I  think  the  fashion  of 
wedding  presents  has  proved  a  lucky  thing  for  us." 

"Even  if  we  have  six  pie-knives,  and  no  pie  to  eat  with 
them,"  said  my  wife,  "as  may  happen  in  our  establishment 
pretty  often." 

"Still,"  said  I,  "among  them  all  there  are  a  sufficiency 
of  articles  that  give  quite  another  aspect  to  our  prudent 
little  house  from  what  it  would  wear  if  we  were  obliged  to 
buy  everything  ourselves." 

"Yes,"  said  my  wife,  "and  one  such  present  as  that  set 
of  bronzes  on  the  mantelpiece  gives  an  air  to  a  whole 
room.  A  mantelpiece  is  like  a  lady's  bonnet.  It 's  the 
headpiece  of  a  room,  and  if  that  be  pleasing  the  rest  is  a 
good  deal  taken  for  granted.  Then,  you  see,  our  parlor  is 
all  of  a  warm  color,  —  crimson  carpet,  crimson  curtains,  — 
everything  warm  and  glowing.  And  so  long  as  you  have 
the  color  it  is  n't  a  bit  of  matter  whether  your  carpet  cost 
three  dollars  and  a  half  a  yard  or  eighty-seven  cents,  and 
whether  your  curtains  are  damask  or  Turkey  red.  Color 
is  color,  and  will  produce  its  effects,  no  matter  in  what 
material. " 

"And  we  men,"  said  I,  "never  know  what  the  material 
is,  if  only  the  effect  is  pleasant.  I  always  look  at  a  room 
as  a  painting.  It  never  occurs  to  me  whether  the  articles 
in  it  are  cheap  or  dear,  so  that  only  the  general  effect  is 
warm,  and  social,  and  agreeable.  And  that  is  just  what 
you  have  made  these  rooms.  I  think  the  general  effect  of 


MY   WIFE    PROJECTS   HOSPITALITIES  489 

the  rooms,  either  by  daylight,  or  lamplight,  or  firelight, 
would  be  to  make  a  person  like  to  stay  in  them,  and  when 
he  had  left  them  want  to  come  back." 

"Yes,"  said  my  wife,  "I  flatter  myself  our  rooms  have 
the  air  of  belonging  to  people  that  are  having  nice  times, 
and  enjoying  themselves,  as  we  are.  And,  for  my  own 
part,  I  feel  like  sitting  right  down  in  them.  All  that 
round  of  party-going,  and  calling,  and  visiting  that  I  used 
to  have  to  keep  up  seems  to  me  really  wearisome.  I  want 
you  to  understand,  Harry,  that  it 's  not  the  slightest  sacri 
fice  in  the  world  for  me  to  give  it  up.  I  'm  just  happy  to 
be  out  of  it." 

"You  see,"  said  I,  "we  can  sit  down  here  and  make 
our  own  world.  Those  that  we  really  like  very  much  and 
who  like  us  very  much  will  come  to  us.  My  ideal  of  good 
society  is  of  a  few  congenial  persons  who  can  know  each 
other  very  thoroughly,  so  as  to  feel  perfectly  acquainted 
and  at  home  with  one  another.  That  was  the  secret  of 
those  reunions  that  went  on  so  many  years  around  Madame 
Recamier.  It  made  no  difference  whether  she  lived  in  a 
palace,  or  a  little  obscure  street;  her  friends  were  real 
friends,  and  followed  her  everywhere.  The  French  have 
made  a  science  of  the  cultivation  of  friendship,  which  is 
worth  study." 

Thus  my  wife  and  I  chatted,  and  felicitated  each  other, 
in  those  first  happy  home-making  days.  There  was  never 
any  end  to  our  subjects  of  mutual  conversation.  Every 
little  change  in  our  arrangements  was  fruitful  in  conversa 
tion.  We  hung  our  pictures  here  at  first,  and  liked  them 
well,  but  our  maturer  second  thoughts  received  bright  in 
spirations  to  take  them  down  and  hang  them  there;  and 
then  we  liked  them  better.  I  must  say,  by  the  bye,  that  I 
had  committed  one  of  those  extravagances  which  lovers  do 
commit  when  they  shut  their  eyes  and  go  it  blind.  I  had 
bought  back  the  pictures  of  Eva's  little  boudoir  from 


490  MY  WIFE   AND  I 

Goupil's.  The  fact  was  that  there  was  a  considerable 
sympathy  felt  for  Mr.  Van  Arsdel,  and  one  of  the  members 
of  the  concern  was  a  nice  fellow,  with  whom  I  had  some 
pleasant  personal  acquaintance.  So  that  the  redemption 
of  the  pictures  was  placed  at  a  figure  which  made  it  possi 
ble  for  me  to  accomplish  it.  Arid  the  pictures  themselves 
were  an  untold  store  of  blessedness  to  us.  I  believe  we 
took  them  all  down  and  hung  them  over  four  times,  on 
four  successive  days,  before  we  were  satisfied  that  we  had 
come  to  ultimate  perfection. 


CHAPTER  LI 

PREPARATIONS  FOR  OUR  DINNER-PARTY 

"HARRY,"  said  my  wife,  the  morning  of  the  day  of  our 
projected  house-warming,  "there  's  one  thing  you  must  get 
me." 

"Well,  Princess?" 

"Well,  you  know  you  and  I  don't  care  for  wine  and 
don't  need  it,  and  can't  afford  it,  but  I  have  such  a  pretty 
set  of  glasses  and  decanters,  and  you  must  get  me  a  couple 
of  bottles  just  to  set  off  our  table  for  celebration. " 

Immediately  I  thought  of  Bolton's  letter,  of  what  he 
had  told  me  of  the  effect  of  wine  upon  his  senses  at  Hester- 
mann's  dinner  table.  I  knew  it  must  not  be  at  ours,  but 
how  to  explain  to  my  wife  without  compromising  him? 
At  a  glance  I  saw  that  all  through  the  future  my  intimacy 
with  Bolton  must  be  guided  and  colored  by  what  I  knew 
of  his  history,  his  peculiar  struggles  and  temptations,  and 
that  not  merely  now,  but  on  many  future  occasions,  I 
should  need  a  full  understanding  with  my  wife  to  act  as  I 
should  be  obliged  to  act.  I  reflected  that  Eva  and  I  had 
ceased  to  be  two  and  had  become  one,  that  I  owed  her  an 
unlimited  confidence  in  those  respects  where  my  actions 
must  involve  her  comfort,  or  wishes,  or  cooperation. 

"Eva,  darling,"  I  said,  "you  remember  I  told  you  there 
was  a  mystery  about  the  separation  of  Bolton  and  Caro 
line." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  she,  wondering;  "but  what  has 
this  to  do  with  this  wine  question  ? " 

"A  great  deal,"  I  said,  and  going  to  my  desk  I  took  out 


492  MY  WIFE   AND   I 

Bolton's  letter  and  put  it  into  her  hand.  "Bead  that,  my 
dear,  and  then  tell  me  what  to  do."  She  took  it  and  read 
with  something  of  the  eagerness  of  feminine  curiosity  while 
I  left  the  room  for  a  few  moments.  In  a  little  while  she 
came  after  me  and  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"Harry,  dear,"  she  said,  "I'll  stand  by  you  in  this 
thing.  His  secret  shall  be  sacred  with  me,  and  I  will  make 
a  safe  harbor  for  him  where  he  may  have  a  home  without 
danger.  I  want  our  house  to  seem  like  a  home  for  him." 

"You  are  an  angel,  Eva." 

"Well,  Harry,  I  must  say  I  always  have  had  conscience 
about  offering  wine  to  some  young  men  that  I  knew  ought 
to  keep  clear  of  it,  but  it  never  occurred  to  me  in  regard 
to  such  a  grave,  noble  man  as  Bolton." 

"We  never  know  who  may  be  in  this  danger.  It  is  a 
diseased  action  of  the  nervous  system  —  often  inherited 
—  a  thing  very  little  understood,  like  the  tendency  to  in 
sanity  or  epilepsy.  But  while  we  know  such  things  are, 
we  cannot  be  too  careful." 

"I  should  never  have  forgiven  myself,  Harry,  if  I  had 
done  it." 

"The  result  would  have  been  that  Bolton  would  never 
have  dined  with  us  again;  he  is  resolute  to  keep  entirely 
out  of  all  society  where  this  temptation  meets  him." 

"Well,  we  don't  want  it,  don't  need  it,  and  won't  have 
it.  Mary  makes  magnificent  coffee,  and  that 's  ever  so 
much  better.  So  that  matter  is  settled,  Harry,  and  I  'm 
ever  and  ever  so  glad  you  told  me.  I  do  admire  him  so 
much!  There  is  something  really  sad  and  noble  in  his 
struggle. " 

"Many  a  man  with  that  temptation  who  fails  often 
exercises  more  self-denial  and  self-restraint  than  most  Chris 
tians,"  said  I. 

"I  'm  sure  I  don't  deny  myself  much.  I  generally  want 
to  do  just  what  I  do,"  said  Eva. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  OUR  DINNER-PARTY  493 

"You  always  want  to  do  all  that  is  good  and  generous," 
said  I. 

"I  think,  on  the  whole,"  said  Eva  reflectively,  "my 
self-denial  is  in  not  doing  what  other  people  want  me  to. 
I  'm  like  Mrs.  Quickly.  I  want  to  please  everybody.  I 
wanted  to  please  mamma  and  Aunt  Maria." 

"And  came  very  near  marrying  a  man  you  couldn't  love 
purely  to  oblige  people." 

"If  you  hadn't  rescued  me,"  she  said,  laughing.  "But 
now,  Harry,  really  I  want  some  little  extravagance  about 
our  dinner.  So  if  we  don't  have  wine,  buy  the  nicest  of 
grapes  and  pears,  and  I  will  arrange  a  pretty  fruit  piece  for 
the  centre  of  the  table." 

"My  love,  I  will  get  you  all  the  grapes  and  pears  you 
want." 

"And  my  little  Ruth  has  sent  me  in  this  lovely  tumbler 
of  apple  jelly.  You  see,  I  held  sweet  counsel  with  her  yes 
terday  on  the  subject  of  jelly-making,  where  I  am  only  a 
novice,  and  hers  is  splendid;  literally  now,  splendid,  for 
see  how  the  light  shines  through  it!  And  do  you  think, 
the  generous  little  Puss  actually  sent  me  in  half  a  dozen 
tumblers. " 

"What  a  perfect  saint!  "  said  I. 

"And  I  am  to  have  all  the  flowers  in  her  garden.  She 
says  the  frost  will  take  them  in  a  day  or  two  if  we  don't. 
Harry,  next  summer  we  must  take  lessons  of  her  about  our 
little  back  yard.  I  never  saw  so  much  made  of  so  little 
ground. " 

"She  '11  be  only  too  delightful,"  said  I. 

"Well,  now,  mind  you  are  home  at  five.  I  want  you 
to  look  the  house  over  before  your  friends  come,  and  see  if 
I  have  got  everything  as  pretty  as  it  can  be." 

"Are  they  to  '  process  '  through  the  house  and  see  your 
blue  room,  and  your  pink  room,  and  your  guest  chamber, 
and  all?" 


494  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

"Yes.  I  want  them  to  see  all  through  how  pretty  the 
rooms  are,  and  then  sometimes,  perhaps,  we  shall  tempt 
them  to  stay  all  night." 

"And  sleep  in  the  chamber  that  is  called  Peace,"  said 
I,  "after  the  fashion  of  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

"Come,  Harry,  begone.  I  want  you  to  go,  so  as  to  be 
sure  and  come  back  early." 


CHAPTEE   LII 

THE    HOUSE-WARMING 

DEAR  reader,  fancy  now  a  low-studded  room,  with  crim 
son  curtains  and  carpet,  a  deep  recess  filled  by  a  crimson 
divan  with  pillows,  the  lower  part  of  the  room  taken  up 
by  a  row  of  book-shelves,  three  feet  high,  which  ran  all 
round  the  room  and  accommodated  my  library.  The  top 
of  this  formed  a  convenient  shelf,  on  which  all  our  pretty 
little  wedding  presents  —  statuettes,  bronzes,  and  articles 
of  vertu  —  were  arranged.  A  fireplace,  surrounded  by  an 
old-fashioned  border  of  Dutch  tiles,  with  a  pair  of  grand 
motherly  brass  andirons,  rubbed  and  polished  to  an  extreme 
of  brightness,  exhibits  a  wood  fire,  all  laid  in  order  to  be 
lighted  at  the  touch  of  the  match.  My  wife  has  dressed 
the  house  with  flowers,  which  our  pretty  little  neighbor 
has  almost  stripped  her  garden  to  contribute.  There  are 
vases  of  fire-colored  nasturtiums  and  many-hued  chrysan 
themums,  the  arrangement  of  which  has  cost  the  little  artist 
an  afternoon's  study,  but  which  I  pronounce  to  be  perfect. 
I  have  come  home  from  my  office  an  hour  earlier  to  see  if 
she  has  any  commands. 

"Here,  Harry,"  she  says,  with  a  flushed  face,  "I  believe 
everything  now  is  about  as  perfect  as  it  can  be.  Now 
come  and  stand  at  this  door,  and  see  how  you  think  it 
will  strike  our  friends,  when  they  first  come  in.  You  see 
I've  heaped  up  those  bronze  vases  on  the  mantel  with 
nothing  but  nasturtiums ;  and  it  has  such  a  surprising  effect 
in  that  dark  bronze !  Then  1 7ve  arranged  those  white 
chrysanthemums  right  against  these  crimson  curtains.  And 


496  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

now  come  out  in  the  dining-room,  and  see  how  I  've  set 
the  dinner  table!  You  see,  I  've  the  prettiest  possible  cen 
tre-piece  of  fruit  and  flowers.  Isn't  it  lovely?  " 

Of  course  I  kissed  her  and  said  it  was  lovely,  and  that 
she  was  lovelier;  and  she  was  a  regular  little  enchantress, 
witch,  and  fairy-queen,  and  ever  so  much  more  to  the 
same  purport.  And  then  Alice  came  down,  all  equipped 
for  conquest,  as  pretty  an  additional  ornament  to  the  house 
as  heart  could  desire.  And  when  the  clock  was  on  the 
stroke  of  six,  and  we  heard  the  feet  of  our  guests  at  the 
door,  we  lighted  our  altar-fire  in  the  fireplace ;  for  it  must 
be  understood  that  this  was  a  pure  coup  de  theatre,  a 
brightening,  vivifying,  ornamental  luxury  —  one  of  the 
things  we  were  determined  to  have,  on  the  strength  of 
having  determined  not  to  have  a  great  many  others.  How 
proud  we  were  when  the  blaze  streamed  up  and  lighted  the 
whole  room,  fluttered  on  the  pictures,  glinted  here  and 
there  on  the  gold  bindings  of  the  books,  made  dreamy 
lights  and  deep  shadows,  and  called  forth  all  the  bright 
glowing  color  of  the  crimson  tints  which  seemed  to  give 
out  their  very  heart  to  firelight!  My  wife  was  evidently 
proud  of  the  effect  of  all  things  in  our  rooms,  which  Jim 
declared  looked  warm  enough  to  bring  a  dead  man  to 
life. 

Bolton  was  seated  in  due  form  in  a  great,  deep  armchair, 
which,  we  informed  him,  we  had  bought  especially  with 
reference  to  him,  and  the  corner  was  to  be  known  hence 
forth  as  his  corner. 

"Well,"  said  he,  with  grave  delight,  "I  have  brought 
my  final  contribution  to  your  establishment ; "  and  forth 
with  from  the  capacious  hinder  pockets  of  his  coat  he  drew 
forth  a  pair  of  kittens,  and  set  them  down  on  the  hearth 
rug.  "There,  Harry,"  he  said  gravely,  "there  are  a 
pair  of  ballet  dancers  that  will  perform  for  you  gratis,  at 
any  time." 


THE    HOUSE-WARMING  497 

"  Oh,  the  little  witches,  the  perfect  loves ! "  said  my 
wife  and  Alice,  rushing  at  them. 

Bolton  very  gravely  produced  from  his  pocket  two  long 
strings  with  corks  attached  to  them,  and  hanging  them  to 
the  gas  fixtures,  began,  as  he  said,  to  exhibit  the  ballet 
dancing,  in  which  we  all  became  profoundly  interested. 
The  wonderful  leaps  and  flings  and  other  achievements  of 
the  performers  occupied  the  whole  time  till  dinner  was 
announced. 

"Now,  Harry,"  said  my  wife,  "if  we  let  Little  Cub  see 
the  kittens  before  she  's  waited  on  table,  it  '11  utterly  de 
moralize  her.  So  we  must  shut  them  in  carefully,"  which 
was  done. 

I  don't  think  a  dinner  party  was  ever  a  more  brilliant 
success  than  ours;  partly  owing  to  the  fact  that  we  were 
a  mutual  admiration  society,  and  our  guests  felt  about  as 
much  sense  of  appropriation  and  property  in  it  as  we  did 
ourselves.  The  house  was  in  a  sort  of  measure  "our 
house,"  and  the  dinner  "our  dinner."  In  short,  we  were 
all  of  us  strictly  en  famille.  The  world  was  one  thing, 
and  we  were  another  outside  of  it  and  by  ourselves,  and 
having  a  remarkably  good  time.  Everybody  got  some 
share  of  praise.  Mary  got  praised  for  her  cooking.  The 
cooking-stove  was  glorified  for  baking  so  well,  and  Bolton 
was  glorified  for  recommending  the  cooking-stove.  And 
Jim  and  Alice  and  my  wife  congratulated  each  other  on 
the  lovely  looks  of  the  dining-room.  We  shuddered  to 
gether  in  mutual  horror  over  what  the  wall-paper  there  had 
been;  and  we  felicitated  the  artists  that  had  brought  such 
brilliant  results  out  of  so  little.  The  difficulties  that  had 
been  overcome  in  matching  the  paper  and  arranging  the  pan 
els  were  forcibly  dwelt  upon;  and  some  sly  jokes  seemed  to 
pass  between  Jim  and  Alice,  applicable  to  certain  turns  of 
events  in  these  past  operations.  After  dinner  we  had  most 
transcendent  coffee,  and  returned  to  our  parlor  as  gay  of 


498  MY   WIFE   AND   I 

heart  as  if  we  had  been  merry  with  wine.  The  kittens 
had  got  thoroughly  at  home  by  that  time,  having  investi 
gated  the  whole  of  the  apartment,  and  began  exhibiting 
some  of  their  most  irresistible  antics  with  a  social  success 
among  us  of  a  most  nattering  nature.  Alice  declared  that 
she  should  call  them  Taglioni  and  Madame  Celeste,  and 
proceeded  to  tie  blue  and  pink  bows  upon  their  necks, 
which  they  scratched  and  growled  at  in  quite  a  warlike 
manner.  A  low  whine  from  the  entry  interrupted  us;  and 
Eva,  opening  the  door  and  looking  out,  saw  poor  old 
Stumpy  sitting  on  the  mat,  with  the  most  good-dog  air  of 
dejected  patience. 

"Why,  here  's  Stumpy,  poor  fellow!"  she  said. 

"Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself  about  him,7'  said  Bolton. 
"I've  taught  him  to  sit  out  on  the  mat.  He's  happy 
enough  if  he  only  thinks  I  'm  inside." 

"But,  poor  fellow,"  said  Eva,  "he  looks  as  if  he 
wanted  to  come  in." 

"Oh,  he  '11  do  well  enough;  never  mind  him,"  said  Bol 
ton,  looking  a  little  embarrassed.  "It  was  silly  of  me  to 
bring  him,  only  he  is  so  desolate  to  have  me  go  out  with 
out  him." 

"Well,  he  shall  come  in,"  said  Eva.  "Come  in,  you 
poor  homely  old  fellow,"  she  said.  "I  dare  say  you  're  as 
good  as  an  angel;  and  to-night 's  my  house-warming,  and 
not  even  a  dog  shall  have  an  ungratified  desire,  if  I  can 
help  it." 

So  poor  Stumpy  was  installed  by  Bolton  in  the  corner, 
and  looked  perfectly  beatified. 

And  now,  while  we  have  brought  all  our  characters  be 
fore  the  curtain,  and  the  tableau  of  the  fireside  is  complete, 
as  we  sit  there  all  around  the  hearth,  each  perfectly  at 
home  with  the  other,  in  heart  and  mind,  and  with  even 
the  poor  beasts  that  connect  us  with  the  lower  world 


THE   HOUSE- WARMING  499 

brightening  in  our  enjoyment,  this  is  a  good  moment  for 
the  curtain  to  fall  on  the  fortunes  of 

MY  WIFE  AND  I. 

THE    END. 

p.  S.  —  If  our  kind  readers  still  retain  a  friendly  interest 
in  the  fortunes  of  any  of  the  actors  in  this  story,  they  may 
hear  again  from  us  at  some  future  day,  in  the 

RECORDS  OF  AN  UNFASHIONABLE  STREET. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN 

This  book  is  due 


•m 


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